


Year One: The Philosopher's Stone

by synteis



Series: The Letter Series [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Rewrite, Gen, Slytherin!Harry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-05-20
Updated: 2012-11-19
Packaged: 2017-11-05 17:07:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 48,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/408901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/synteis/pseuds/synteis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry doesn't bring his Hogwarts letter into the kitchen and hides it from his aunt and uncle instead. One small decision changes the course of his life. Slytherin!Harry and mentor!Snape.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In Which Harry Receives a Letter

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: J. K. Rowling and associates own these characters. I am writing this story for fun and not for profit.
> 
> This was beta-ed by the lovely and invaluable Mako-chan.
> 
> Vernon and Dudley's opinions are not mine although some of their language is purposely offensive. This may be triggering to some people, if you'd like to know more, please message me.
> 
> After several years I'm back to actively updating this fic as of October 2015. I've edited the old chapters again and will be posting more chapters soon.

The 24th of July seemed like any other day when Harry Potter, aged almost eleven awoke. He had been kept in his cupboard since the incident at the zoo and only let out the day before. Yesterday had brought with it the coming of Dudley's Smeltings uniform and of the now dreaded Smeltings stick. Already, his shins and arms bore a few long bruises, some of them still red. Harry didn't think that the stick would be discarded or broken as easily as Dudley's other toys.

Aunt Petunia's voice screeched through the thin door of his cupboard, "Up you get boy, there's breakfast for you to make!"

"Coming Aunt Petunia," he said as he hurried out of his cupboard and into the kitchen. There was a horrible smell in the kitchen that morning. It was an unusual mixture of bleach and vinegar as though Aunt Petunia had decided to start cleaning the kitchen and making pickles. The smell appeared to be coming from a pile of grey-brown rags twisting mournfully around in the sink, floating in a brown liquid.

Quickly moving to start the breakfast fry-up, Harry cautiously asked Aunt Petunia, mindful that he had only just got out of the cupboard, "Aunt Petunia, what's in the sink?"

Aunt Petunia glanced up from the sheet of paper she was looking with a twist in her mouth. "Your new school uniform of course. I used some of Dudley's old things."

Harry turned away so that his aunt would not see his face drop. He doubted that other children at his new school would be wearing poorly dyed uniforms made from Dudley's cast-offs. He had been hoping that without Dudley around he might finally make some friends at his new school, despite what Dudley and his cronies had said about the kind of children who went to the local comprehensive.

Uncle Vernon was soon coming down the stairs and was followed by Dudley. Breakfast now completed, Harry walked out of the kitchen to gather the mail. There was a brown envelope that looked like a bill, a postcard from Aunt Marge and a thick creamy envelope unlike anything Harry had ever seen. It was textured and heavy. As he turned the envelope, he found that it was addressed to a

_Mr. H. Potter,_   
_The Cupboard under the Stairs,_   
_4, Privet Drive,_   
_Little Whinging,_   
_Surrey_

Harry had never received a letter before, and he didn't think that anyone in the Dursley household had received one so interesting. In fact, Harry was quite certain that nothing interesting had ever happened to the Dursleys. On the back was a thick purple seal, with a big letter H, surrounded by a badger, a snake, a lion and an eagle. He fingered the seal and began ripping the letter open.

"What's keeping you boy?" roared Uncle Vernon.

Harry hurried forward, almost stumbling over his too big jeans. At the last moment, he slid his letter under the door of his cupboard before continuing into the kitchen. It was the first time he had ever had something nice that was his, and he didn't think he could bear to see Dudley tear it up.

He handed Uncle Vernon the bill and the postcard and sat down in his seat, almost vibrating with excitement. He ignored Uncle Vernon's scowls at the bill and his long discussion with Aunt Petunia on the merits of the Isle of Wight and how the service industry was declining when a person like Marge couldn't even go on holiday without getting sick.  
Harry barely heard any of it, instead, shovelling his breakfast into his mouth. Not even Dudley's Smeltings or the welts it produced bothered him for long and he floated through all of Aunt Petunia's tasks without care, even though it was a hot day in the garden and there was much weeding and watering to do.

It seemed that Aunt Petunia was determined to make him work especially hard today after spending yesterday with Mrs. Figg and all of his many weeks in his cupboard. Perhaps she hoped to further deter him from any "funny business." In some ways Harry wished that all the hard work he did would prevent strange things from happening around him. Maybe if they stopped happening the Dursleys would come to care for Harry.

He gave up his thoughts though as he began wash his new uniform by hand. It seemed that Aunt Petunia was determined not to ruin the dye-job though as far as Harry could tell there was little to ruin since, unfortunately for Harry, they looked no better than they had that morning. He could already imagine snickers of his new classmates.

Dudley too had his fun with Harry that day, chasing him around the park with his gang, or rather, ordering his cronies to catch Harry and then bring him forward for Dudley and his friends to hit him. It seemed that each of his friends wanted their chance with the Smeltings stick, although Piers at least had his own which cut down on the squabbling. Their laughter quickly filled the park and the other children, recognising the new arrivals fled.

Dudley sat alone on the park bench, his cronies surrounding him and Harry, jostling each other for prime viewing and hitting spots.

"Now, one at a time, and I want to see good whacks all around; this is a Smeltings stick, so no sissy business," he grunted, puffing up his chest and doubtlessly imagining the fun summer that was sure to follow.

But even such a bad day couldn't ruin Harry's excitement. He quickly ate his dinner and cleaned the dishes, keeping his head low and his mouth shut until finally, sweaty, dirty and hurting he was allowed to slip into his cupboard.

He panicked for a moment when he didn't see the letter under the door, imagining once more Dudley's look of glee as he tore it up, Uncle Vernon's bright red face as he shoved Harry into his cupboard and Aunt Petunia's pinched, sour face.

As his shoulders dropped, his foot hit the thick envelope and his heart soared. He still had it. Carefully, he pulled the letter from under the cot and placed it under his pillow. Next, he removed an old broken torch which Dudley had once gotten for Christmas.

Harry sat tight, clutching the torch and the letter under his pillow while he waited for the house to quiet down: the television downstairs being shut off, Dudley trudging up the stairs, one loud clump after another, drywall sprinkling over Harry's forehead, the water upstairs running and then stopping, the thumps as Dudley, Aunt Petunia and finally Uncle Vernon lay down in their separate beds. By this point, it was more than he could bear. Although Harry had said that he would wait twenty minutes after they had gone to bed before turning on his flashlight, he could wait only a few minutes before he pulled the sheets over his head and turned on the dim, flickering flashlight. The clock was particularly hard to tell time with as it was missing the minute hand.

Harry looked first at the address once more but there really was no doubt that it was addressed to him, down to the odd detail of his cupboard. He turned it over and saw that the envelope was torn under the seal where he had begun opening it. Carefully, he finished opening the envelope. At every creak, he would freeze and bury his flashlight under the pillow, only to slip it out a few moments later when everything was once again still and silent.  
He repeated this procedure on the sheets contained inside and discovered that they were made of the same thick vellum that the envelope had been made of. The first letter read:

_HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY_   
_Headmaster: ALBUS DUMBLEDORE_   
_(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,_   
_Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)_

_Dear Mr. Potter,_   
_We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment._   
_Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31._   
_Yours sincerely,_   
_Minerva McGonagall_   
_Deputy Headmistress_

Harry's heart leapt into his chest. He couldn't believe what he was reading. Him, a wizard? It was hard to imagine that this wasn't some kind of prank with all the talk about wizards and owls and yet this was the first time he could ever remember somebody wanting him, someone saying that he was special.

But although he desperately wanted it to be true, there seemed to be no way of knowing. The second piece of parchment contained only a list of required school supplies, none of which he had any idea how to get. He certainly had no 'owl' by which he could contact the Deputy Headmistress.

Still, there was a small spark of hope fluttering inside his chest. He read the letter again and then a few times more until he regretfully placed it into the space beneath a loose floorboard along with the broken flashlight. The letter went in first, buried under a small pile of drawings which had previously occupied the space. They were children's drawings, made from cheap crayons but they clearly showed a boy with wild hair, green eyes and a scar on his forehead smiling while his hands were held by two smiling figures although Harry could not remember his parents. Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon said they had died in a car crash with him when he was only a baby, leaving him with the Dursleys and a lightning bolt scar.

The floorboard back in place, Harry curled up under his covers. He went to sleep muttering the contents of his letter, "Dear Mr. Potter, we are pleased..."

 

#

  
  


Harry dreamt that night of a bright flash of green light and of a high laughter but found, when he awoke that he remembered none of it. Indeed, his day began when he suddenly sat up, at once nervous and excited for the upcoming day; for today, he would have to deal with his letter.

Soon came the shriek of his Aunt Petunia., "Up, up boy, lots to do today," and the thud-thud-thud of his Uncle Vernon and his Cousin Dudley down the stairs.

He was quite distracted that day: as he cut the tomatoes with the serrated knife he almost sliced his fingers twice, he was sprayed by the fat from the bacon pan and he almost burnt Dudley's eggs, something he had not done since he was quite little.

The mail that day held nothing interesting in it what so ever, although when he handed Uncle Vernon the mail he began spluttering. "Another bill, Petunia, for that cursed car. It was brand new a month ago and it needs a new converter. I should have never bought one of those European imports. A good British car is always best, haven't I always said that Dudley, my boy."

Dudley grunted, too busy stuffing bacon into his mouth. Harry had a brief thought about how close to cannibalism that was but refused to chuckle in case he was punished for it. Harry had a plan that could not go wrong.

"Don't get fooled like I was, Dudley; stick to British cars made from the sweat of British men and the metal of British soil. Other countries don't know the meaning of quality. In fact, Petunia, I'm certain that Marge's food was cooked by an immigrant. No idea of work ethic, those immigrants. That's why I refuse to employ them, Petunia. There'll be no defective drills at my factory, oh no."

By now, his face was becoming a little red, and Harry was very glad that he had held in his chuckle.

"Quite right, Vernon, quite right," said Aunt Petunia as Dudley, seeing that Harry was distracted, took his remaining slices of bacon.

"You didn't cook enough bacon for my Diddykins, did you?" snapped Aunt Petunia at Harry, making him jump. And with that, she upended his almost full plate onto Dudley's. Dudley's smile was large and toothy and Harry heard his deep chuckle. Harry's stomach, meanwhile, only rumbled. However, Harry couldn't complain because tomorrow was mail day.  
Uncle Vernon sent out letters every Thursday. There was always at least one stern letter to the newspaper about one of their articles being too liberal, and this week there was also a letter to Marge, complaining once more about the declining quality of the British service industry and the negative effects of immigration. It was Harry's job to take these letters to the post office every Wednesday, and it was because of this that he had a plan.

Harry spent the rest of the day composing his letter. He had decided that he would ask the postman where to send it to as he had no library card that he could use to find the address in the library. Making that decision was simple enough, but trying to decide what to write in his letter was far more difficult.

When he was cleaning the study that day on Aunt Petunia's orders, he managed to swipe some envelopes and several sheets of paper. He hid these under the waist band of his jeans very quickly and finished dusting and vacuuming as soon as he could.

The stationary was then slipped into the cupboard, and Harry spent the rest of the day attempting to compose the letter in his head. The biggest problem, Harry found, was trying to communicate to a school which he wasn't even sure existed and one which seemed to believe that it was magical. Who communicated with owls and did things like spells and potions? But he found that his hope was stronger than the strangeness of the letter, and he was determined to hold on to that hope until it had been completely extinguished. The final copy of his letter ended up reading:

_Dear Deputy Headmistress McGonagall,_  
_My name is Harry Potter of number four, Privet Drive and I received your letter today in the post. Thank you for accepting me to the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry._ _I was very surprised by your letter as I have never heard of a school of witchcraft and wizardry and never applied to Hogwarts at all. Where can I buy the textbooks and supplies that you mentioned? I have no owl so I have sent this as best as I can by Royal Mail. I hope that it finds you._  
_Yours sincerely,  
_ _Harry Potter_

Harry was quite pleased with his letter, as he felt that it sounded at once grown-up and serious. He had a brief worry that the original letter could have been one of Dudley's pranks, but he didn't think Dudley smart enough to know the words that Deputy Headmistress McGonagall had used. Also, he seemed quite content in general to hit Harry instead of pranking him. Dudley, like the rest of the Dursleys, was also quite afraid of the word magic.  
Having written out the letter that night in his cupboard, he crumpled up his failed attempts and stuffed them in a hole in the wall; he would throw them out tomorrow on his way to the post office. As would seem had become his habit, before he went to sleep, Harry pulled out his letter and looked at it for several long moments before putting it back in his hiding place. He went to sleep with a smile on his face and that night had no dreams.

 

#

 

Harry awoke feeling refreshed and determined to send his letter to the mysterious school. He felt quite certain that he had to succeed. Indeed, this school, if it were real, sounded far better than the local comprehensive where, Dudley assured him, new students were regularly beat up and placed in toilets. Never before had Harry been wanted somewhere, and now he had been accepted at a school that wrote on thick parchment which was far nicer than any mail Dudley had received from Smeltings.

A few hours later, Harry was walking up the street in the hot sun to the post office. There was a heat spell on and already he had spent several hours watering the Dursleys' lawn and washing Uncle Vernon's imported car. But even that the dripping heat could not tire him.   
He'd had to look very unhappy when Aunt Petunia had handed him the letters for fear that she, realising how much he was looking forward to the journey, might prevent him from undertaking it.

Dudley was not around that day, as Uncle Vernon had decided to take Dudley into work  so that he could show him off to all of his co-workers. The Smeltings stick had yet to be broken and neither had Dudley tired of hitting things with it, unfortunately for Harry.  
He was so pleased with his letter, which he had gathered that morning, that he even waved back to Mrs. Figg as he passed her house, although he usually ignored her for fear that she would invite him in to her cabbage-smelling house. The walk to the post-office took Harry quite a while, for Uncle Vernon always insisted that he bring them to the post office itself so that they would arrive as quickly as possible. His route passed by at least five post boxes, but he held no resentment towards them today.

Finally, he arrived at the post office and pulled out Uncle Vernon's letters and his letter to the Deputy Headmistress. Then, he carefully approached the counter and asked the man who stood there, "Sir, I was wondering if you could look up the address for a Hogwarts school?"  
The man was tall and bald with a round, solid body and a jolly face. But, while he had been smiling when the small boy had entered his shop, his face now darkened grey. "Hogwarts, I see... It seems that you, boy, are you trying to play a trick on me. You shouldn't play pranks that waste good people's time. I've good at least one of you in here every year trying to play that trick on me, but I've looked once and I've looked ten times and that school does not exist. For shame, children in my day knew how to behave!"

By the end of this, his face had started turning an alarming shade of red and Harry had began to sink into the flagstones which covered the floor. But he couldn't leave; the man had as good as told him that the school existed or at least that it was a widespread prank.

Suddenly, a small man with a large, crooked nose and a bright orange cloak appeared behind the counter. "Now, Alfred, there's no use scaring the boy. I'm sure he was fooled just like the others. Why don't you go to the back room and have a cup of tea? I'll take over here."  
Alfred, taking one last look at Harry, turned and walked quickly away, all the while muttering under his breath.

The man now turned to look down at Harry. "A letter, you say, for Hogwarts. If you give it to me, I'll-" And then, he gasped, for another customer had entered the post office and the breeze had caused Harry's hair - which usually covered his forehead - to lift up and had revealed Harry's scar.

Harry had had the scar for as long as he could remember, a gagged line on his forehead that Aunt Petunia said was from the car crash that had killed both his parents, and which he kept covered as often as possible to avoid the "freak"s and the hits and shoves and trips that sometimes followed.

The man's face, which had been considering, now looked quite awed. "Well, Mr. Potter, I'll get that to Hogwarts as quickly as I can. Just you wait and see. You'll have a response faster than you can say nitflick!" And he grabbed the letter from Harry's hands and started smiling and seemed to be trying to shake his hand at the same time.

"Just marvelous, my Susan won't believe it. Harry Potter in my post office, off to Hogwarts. Simply splendid."

Now quite nervous about how this man know his name, Harry, one of Vernon's letters still in his hand, quickly left the post office.

After a few blocks he decided that it was no stranger than the strangers who sometimes hugged him in the street. At least the man had seemed to know where Hogwarts might be and that meant that it might be real! He hadn't come across as the sort of person who'd go along with such a horrible prank just to break the hearts of boys who would otherwise have to go to the local compression in mottled castoffs and be dunked in at least ten toilets on the first day as a result.

Harry was so caught up in his thoughts that he managed to return to number four, Privet Drive with Vernon's letter still clutched in his hands. The envelope was crumpled and he didn't have the time to race back to the post office. The problem with Privet Drive was that one of Aunt Petunia's friends was always watching and would be happy to report any misbehaviour on Harry's behalf. His bum still hurt from the wallop he'd gotten after one of them had caught him staring into the distance the other day instead of deadheading the flowers in the front garden.

Thankfully though the nearest post box was only a block away. Harry brought his shoe up against the box to tie his shoelace and slipped the letter in, blocked from view by his slender body.

He was quite satisfied with himself by this point in the day but he was careful to keep his face miserable as he returned. 


	2. The Visit to Mrs. Figg's

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The saga of the letter continues, the Dursleys respond and a surprise waits at Mrs. Figg's. Also, there are two cats.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this was going to be posted on Sunday as per my schedule but I finished it early and I couldn't wait any longer. So it's your lucky day. EDIT: Found a beta! Thanks Mako-chan.

Harry was surprised when he returned to number four, Privet Drive that little seemed to have changed since he had left earlier that morning. After all of his adventures that day, Alfred and the funny man in the orange cloak, Privet Drive's perfect lawns and neat flower beds seemed more stifling than ever before. The nervousness he'd felt in the post office had been changed into a strange energy and impatience. Now that he had sent his letter after so much worrying over it, he wanted a response quickly.

At the same time, he felt a huge relief and triumph. He had beaten the Dursleys, beaten Dudley. Always before his defiance had been by accident, like when his hair grew back or when he'd escaped Dudley's gang or had been small like the broken toys and pencils that he collected.

Harry had never had so grand of an adventure before. And it wasn't over yet; it could end the way all of his best dreams ended with him leaving the Dursleys forever, never seeing his cupboard again.

Harry walked through the door of number four as quiet as he could, but even that couldn't hide the bounce in his step. He was met with absolute silence. Never before had Harry been in the house without the sound of the television or of a video game, of Uncle Vernon's grumble or Aunt Petunia's high screeching. There was no sound of Dudley crunching crisps. There was absolute silence.

But the house was not empty. Uncle Vernon sat in the biggest chair in the television room, overstuffed and leather-covered. His face appeared to have been simmering up to a deep plum for quite a while. He had a handful of papers scrunched in one of his overlarge fists and beads of sweats were appearing on his forehead.

Aunt Petunia looked at once frightened and angry and was standing in front of Dudley, although she looked as though she would like nothing more than to run away.

Dudley was the only Dursley who looked neither scared nor angry. Instead, he was gleeful. His round face stretched into a wide grin, and he kept rubbing his fists as though he was looking for a target.

Harry's heart, which had just moments ago been happier than ever before, sank. He could guess where the papers were from. He had been rushed and excited that morning and had not remembered to destroy the drafts of his letters. They had remained poorly hidden in his room, and Aunt Petunia must have found them when she had gone cleaning.

"What is this filth, boy, and what were you doing with it in your room!" roared Uncle Vernon. He grasped at the papers harder and a few began to tear.

"I don't allow funny business in my house! Where did you hear that name?"

Harry began cowering. Uncle Vernon had never hit him, but he threw him around when he got angry. Harry had only just been let out of his cupboard and he had not yet stopped being hungry. He had missed lunch that day in order to prepare for his outing and he now regretted that strongly. His stomach growled and Uncle Vernon's angry face twisted into a cruel smile.

"You'll be missing dinner tonight and tomorrow, boy, as it is; but until you tell me where you heard of that school, you won't be getting any food and you won't be leaving your cupboard!"

Harry didn't know what to say. Normally, his uncle wanted to hear nothing from him, not apologies or excuses, and Harry didn't know how to make his punishment any less severe.  
"I was... I was..." stammered Harry. He had often dreamed of running away. He could imagine himself yelling at Uncle Vernon and Dudley and Aunt Petunia, telling them how much he hated them, yelling loud enough that all the neighbours heard and they had to move away. But he didn't know if Hogwarts was real and, even if it was, he couldn't get there. He was stuck at number four and he knew that there was no way to escape his punishment.

"You don't appreciate what we did for you. We've put a roof over your head, boy, let you live and eat with us and how do you thank us, how do you reward our charity? It's not normal, you never were but we knew that we could break it out of you. But your parents were always bad sorts, and Marge has always said that blood wills out. And now you're writing about that school, about," and here his voice, which had previously been a roar, dropped to an angry whisper, "magic."

At that word, Petunia jumped backwards.

Harry stood trembling, hope warring with fear. If Uncle Vernon and Alfred and the strange man from the post office knew the name then surely Hogwarts had to be real? The thought caught in his chest and held finally given reason to grow.

In fact, Harry was so caught up in those surging feeling that he barely noticed when he was thrown into his cupboard by the scruff of his neck. He landed half on the floor, half on his cot, and once Uncle Vernon had stridden away, he felt for his main hiding spot. His heart was in his mouth as he felt for the loose floorboard. As he found the edge, he paused. His heart felt like it might fall out of him. Mustering up his courage he quickly lifted up the floorboard and felt underneath it. The papers cut his fingers and he almost started crying now nearly sick with relief. Carefully, Harry removed his Hogwarts letter and read it over a few times, thinking all the while about this strangest of days and wondering if all the clues were right and he really would be rescued from the Dursleys.

Harry read the letter one last time and then hid it under his shirt, next to his heart. He went to sleep, clutching it.

  
#

 

Harry had not been locked in the cupboard for very long when Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon took Piers and Dudley out to London. As per usual, Harry was to be sent over to Mrs. Figg's. After the incident with the zoo and the letter, it was a miracle that he was to be let out of the cupboard so early, even if it was just to go to smelly Mrs. Figg's house. Harry suspected that he was only being allowed to leave his cupboard because the summer was becoming quite hot, and Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon did not want to have to bring Harry to the hospital because he'd gotten heatstroke from his stuffy little cupboard.

Harry, who had been eating one meal a day until that point, the breakfast that he cooked, as well as anything else he could get his hands on, was pleased by this trip for another reason. Because Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon got enough comments on how skinny he was, they were always certain to feed him large meals before he was sent off to Mrs. Figg's.  
By the time breakfast had been eaten and Harry had washed the dishes, the Dursleys were ready to leave on their trip to London.

"Don't think I've forgotten about that funny business of yours, boy. You're lucky that we're letting you out at all. Now, head over to Mrs. Figg's and you had better cause her no trouble. We'll be back late, but not so late that you'll be staying over there, no..." Uncle Vernon had turned from looking angry to gleeful.

Harry sighed silently. The Dursleys left him with Mrs. Figg when they went out because Mrs. Figg was not one of Aunt Petunia or Uncle Vernon's friends whose opinion mattered to them. Mrs. Figg was the odd, old woman on the street with too many cats. It was hard to imagine someone on the street whose opinion they cared less about.

Harry walked slowly over to Mrs. Figg’s.

She had an old fence which might once have been white surrounding her yard. Cats started approaching him as he neared the house. These cats were mangier than the cats which stayed in the house with Mrs. Figg and more inclined to bite or to scratch Harry as a result. Still, one or two of them had taken a liking to him in his previous visits and every once and awhile, he would find them in the garden at number four as he mowed the lawn, pulled weeds, mulched the soil or any of the number of garden related chores that Harry was responsible for.

The first of the outdoor cats to approach him was a tabby with the strangest of markings of all of Mrs. Figg's cats. She had square markings around her beady, intelligent eyes and smoother fur than many of the others. She would often disappear for long stretches of time but when she was around was an excellent gardening companion. Harry wasn't certain if she had a name. Mrs. Figg always smiled mysteriously when Harry brought her up, and Harry had feeling that she was amongst Mrs. Figg's most wild cats.

As Harry approached, he let slip a small sliver of fish he'd pinched from last night’s dishes. The tabby approached, her head raised high, eyes locked on Harry, until the moment when she was close enough, at which point she quickly nicked the piece from Harry's hand  and then moved back.

"How has the hunting been? I see that you liked my treat. I wish you could hunt Dudley, but I don't blame you for staying away this summer. Dudley's gotten very quick with his Smeltings stick, and my aunt and uncle have really been on the lookout when I'm working in the garden."

She yowled and Harry continued telling her about his summer so far, sitting on the ground as she circled him, until she finally jumped onto an old tree stump, where she lay down and began surveying her domain. Every once in awhile, usually when Harry had told her of some of his unfortunate happenings this summer, she would glance at him and when he told her of his few amusing adventures, she would flick her eyelids, which Harry had always considered her laugh.

Some time later Harry noticed Mrs. Figg out of the corner of his eye, but, thankfully, she didn't try to drag him into the house. The house, in addition to smelling like cabbage, cat hair and cat litter, also contained the indoor cats. Harry liked the indoor cats far less than the outdoor cats, as they were the ones which Mrs. Figg most fawned over and were thus the most condescending. The tabby was a match for any of them of course but she seldom joined Harry when he went indoors. She probably didn’t like the smell of cabbage anymore than Harry did.

Her sole competition came bouncing in only a few moments after Harry had thought that thought. He was younger than the tabby and acted much more like a kitten. He came carrying a mouse, which he deposited at Harry's feet. He was quite large for his age and had black fur, spotted with brown flecks and yellow eyes, that were almost green. His body ended in a slightly plumed tail which he enjoyed chasing.

Harry had some fish for him too. Unlike the tabby, he did have a name, Bear, despite his small size. In fact, Harry had named him after the tabby had deposited Bear, then only a very small kitten, at Harry's feet one day a couple of years ago. Harry had asked Mrs. Figg how to care for him and had done so when he could. However, because he couldn’t bring him into number four, Bear had to live outdoors. Despite this, when Harry gave Bear his piece of fish, he rubbed himself against Harry's hand.

"Well, I've already told our tabby here all about my adventures so far, Bear. You missed all the best bits."

Bear, like the tabby, always seemed more intelligent than the indoor cats and almost seemed to pout at this.

Harry laughed before adding, "Well, I might have been joking. There's one thing that I haven't told our distinguished companion about. I got a letter the other day from this place called Hogwarts. It seems like it's a school for wizards or something. I'm not sure if it's a joke, but I sent a letter to the Deputy Headmistress anyway. There was a strange old man at the post office who knew my name just like those people on the street but he said he'd send it off so it might be real!"

Harry's voice turned softer. "Even if it is real though Uncle Vernon found out about the letter so he’ll be on the lookout even if they do write back. That's why I've been locked back up so I won't see you two much this summer. It sounds crazy, but even Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia were scared, and I never wrote down the word "magic" anywhere." Though he had mentioned spells and potions he supposed. "It was like they were more scared of the school than they are of magic."

By this point, Bear was nudging the mouse at him. Harry laughed and was glad for it. "Thank you for the gift, it has made me feel better."

The tabby, who had been keeping a raised ear during the entire conversation, settled down for what appeared to be a long nap while Bear and Harry played. Harry felt one small spear of sadness as he realised that if this school was real, it was unlikely that he'd see Bear again for a long while.

 #  
  


Some time later, dusk was falling and the tabby had awoken from her nap. She stretched out and then began walking towards the house where Mrs. Figg kept the food dishes and Harry followed. This was what he hated about coming to Mrs. Figg's. Still, at least he wasn't going to be staying the night. The food bowls for the outdoor cats were unnamed, unlike those indoors, and when Mrs. Figg put the food out, the scramble for it was quite unlike anything else Harry had ever seen. The tabby simply walked through and claimed a bowl and the other cats fought over the others. Bear quickly emerged amongst the first winners and ambled over to another choice bowl. Soon, all the cats had finished.

Mrs. Figg called out from inside. "You've been outside quite enough already, come inside and have some supper. And I have some new pictures to show you."

Harry groaned. Mrs. Figg's food was bad enough, but looking at her pictures was even worse.

"I'm coming, Mrs. Figg," Harry said as he entered the house. Immediately, the smells enveloped him and Harry would have liked nothing better than to turn tail. But, he was hungry enough that even Mrs. Figg's food sounded palatable.

To his surprise, there was no food on the kitchen table where they usually ate. The tabby walked up towards Mrs. Figg.

"Harry, I heard from a little bird that you got your letter a few days ago. Congratulations. There was never any doubt really, not with all your displays, but it's always an important moment in any witch or wizard's life."

Harry's mouth dropped open. "So, it's true? The letter was real?"  
Harry’s eye was suddenly caught on the tabby who seemed to be growing and then changing shape. When it was over the tabby had changed into an older woman with square glasses and brown hair pulled into a high bun. She was wearing a tartan robe and a pointed tartan hat.

"It certainly was, Mr. Potter," said the woman.

Harry's mouth dropped open. "But you, the cat, the tabby... I, who are you?

"I am Deputy Headmistress Minerva McGonagall. Please call me Professor McGonagall."

Harry's eyes, lit up with understanding. "You sent me my letter!"

Professor McGonagall smiled at his enthusiasm. "Indeed I did."

"But how did you change from a cat into a human?"

"Oh, you are quite mistaken, Mr. Potter," said Professor McGonagall. "I was a human first before I was a cat. I am what is called an Animagus, a wizard who is able to turn into an  animal, in my case a tabby cat."

Harry blushed and lowered his eyes. "Oh."

"It's nothing to be ashamed about, Mr. Potter. In fact your father was an Animagus."

Harry raised his eyes, and they shone. "My father...?"

"Yes, Mr. Potter, despite what those awful Muggles have told you, your father was a wizard from a long line of wizards. He was especially gifted at Transfiguration, the magic of transforming one object into another. And your mother was a witch and of far better temper than her sister Petunia. You have her eyes, and look remarkably like your father."

Harry had never heard any stories about his parents except that his father was a drunk. The Dursleys had always said that they were unemployed.

"You knew them then? My father and my mother?"

"Yes, I taught them both at Hogwarts."

The mention of Hogwarts reminded Harry of his letter. "So, you got my letter?"

"Yes, Mr. Potter, I did, although I enjoyed hearing about its journey from you."

Suddenly, Harry's heart dropped. "Professor McGonagall, Bear isn't a person is he?"  
McGonagall smiled. "No, Mr. Potter, there is no need to worry. I brought him to you as I could only visit you sometimes. A child needs to smile sometimes in his life. He is a Kneazle, though, and not a cat. A Kneazle is quite like a cat, but they are larger, with large ears and Bear's plumed tail. He is quite intelligent, you were right about that, and he'll always be rather independent. But he'll be loyal to you for the rest of his life and he'll always be able to guide you home."

Harry smiled. The tabby and Bear had been his only friends. He didn't think he could have born to lose both of them. Bear, as though called by the professor, pressed against Harry's legs.

"So you knew, Mrs. Figg, all along?" Harry couldn’t the stab of betrayal that shot through him at the thought.

"Yes, I did, Harry. I was asked to watch over you, make sure that the Muggles weren't horribly mistreating you, although what they got away with... I'm very sorry, Harry, but I couldn't make your visits to my house too enjoyable for fear that the Dursleys wouldn't let you back."

Harry gave her a small smile. "Well you let me have Bear and the tabby, so it wasn't too bad, I suppose." She’d done more than any of the other adults who had noticed except perhaps for McGonagal.

Mrs. Figg smiled back at him something like relief sliding over her face. "Well, you won't have to eat my food today at least, Harry. Unfortunately, that wasn't an act. Professor McGonagall has kindly brought over some food for you. You need it after all your time in the cupboard this summer."

Harry remembered his questions and they promptly came spilling out. "How does Hogwarts work? How am I going to pay for it? And how am I going to get all those books or a wand?"

Professor McGonagall smiled down at him. "There's no need to worry. Harry, your parents were quite well off. They left all of their belongings to you when you died."

"Yes, in a car crash, my aunt and uncle told me."

"No, Harry, not in a car crash. Honestly, I wonder if those Muggles have spoken an honest word to you in your entire life, at least one which was not filled with hate. Your parents died defending you from a Dark wizard named Voldemort. He began a war amongst wizards which only ended when he came to your house when you were only a child. He killed both of your parents and would have killed you but when he tried to do so, the curse rebounded and killed him. You are a hero to the Wizarding world, Harry, known as the Boy-Who-Lived. There isn’t anybody in the Wizarding world who does not know your name."

Harry had never heard something so unbelievable in his life. Him, a hero? It seemed like a dream or a fairytale.

And his parents, his parents who had loved him, who had died to protect him, who hadn’t been drunkards or penniless. It was better than anything he’d ever imagined.

His thoughts were interrupted by McGonagall’s efficiency.

"As for your other questions, I will take you to Diagon Alley on your birthday, the 31st I believe. Diagon Alley is the Wizarding marketplace, and it is quite an adventure. And don't worry about the Dursleys. I have someone who can take care of them." With that, Professor McGonagall smiled and Harry couldn't help but smile too, wondering what was going to happen two days from now.

"Finish up your food," reminded Mrs. Figg. "I'll have to bring you back soon. Now do remember not to smile too much, or you'll ruin the surprise."

Harry nodded, saying nothing. He’d learnt that the hard way a long time ago.

McGonagall stood."I really must be off now, Mr. Potter. It was a pleasure speaking to you," she said with a nod. The next moment she had vanished.

Harry gasped. Magic!

As Bear begged for another piece of fish from his plate, Harry couldn't help but give it to him, nor could he help smiling. He was looking forward to the next day more than he ever had before.

Harry slipped back into the house that evening just as the Dursleys arrived. The traffic back from London had been bad, and Uncle Vernon was particularly upset.

"Traffic on a Sunday. It's wrong, that's what it is. Not like it was like in my day, oh no... Too many people these days, too many... It's all those people we've been letting in. Don't know how to drive any of them."

But Uncle Vernon must have been tired as well and because no one checked on Harry in his cupboard. If they had, they would have found one smiling, tired boy, collapsed on the cot.  



	3. Diagon Alley

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry has two visitors who shake things up a bit with the Dursleys and vistas Diagon Alley where he makes his first friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah I've given up on actually posting on Sunday so perhaps I'll just say that I'll post by Sunday each week. Many thanks to my lovely beta. Thanks for all the lovely reviews, this is truly a pleasure to write and your reviews just make it easier. Certain dialogue has been taken from the books, anyone who wants the details can contact me.

The next day passed without incident. Harry was pleased to see Bear join him in the garden, although he was careful to stay in the bushes, out of sight of the ever watchful Petunia. When Bear was a kitten, Harry had had nightmares about Dudley hitting him. And, although Harry still worried about what the Smeltings stick could do to Bear, he trusted what McGonagall had told him about the Kneazle - that he was smart and able to hold his own in a fight. Harry went to bed early, wanting to wake up for his traditional celebration of his birthday. He wasn't sure how much sleep he was going to get, and he was more excited than he could ever remember being for tomorrow's outing. Even the name sounded special: Diagon Alley. He tossed and he turned and finally went to sleep.

He woke up just before twelve. Harry took out his clock, and then, in the dust of his cupboard floor, drew a birthday day cake with eleven candles. Just as the clock chimed twelve, Harry whispered, "Blow out the candles and make a wish, Harry."

For the first time, he thought he could hear his mother's voice, see his father's face, his mother's eyes. He squeezed his eyes, tightly shut, held onto that image and then blew hard. Just this once, his wish wasn't that his parents or some other relative would come rescue him; instead, he said firmly, "I hope that I make friends at Hogwarts." He opened his eyes, and smiled before crawling back into bed. It was hard to imagine that he'd ever have a better day than yesterday and there was still tomorrow to come.

 

#

 

Harry was the first person up the next morning. He doubted that the Dursleys would remember his birthday, but even if they did, past gift highlights included a matching pair of Uncle Vernon's old socks.

He went to the kitchen and began pulling ingredients out of the fridge and off the cupboards with the help of his stool. He was celebrating his birthday today no matter what the Dursleys did.He'd be able to give McGonagall and her companion some. when they arrived too.

He quickly put together some rough puff pastry and started some strawberries and rhubarb simmering on the stove. Once everything had cooled he rolled out the pastry, filling it with his strawberry rhubarb mixture before sealing them up into little turnovers.

The turnovers came out of the oven perfectly, although using Aunt Petunia's large cooking appliances was always a little bit difficult. Once they were cool, he ate three and then hid himself and two of them in his cupboard. He’d managed to miss the Dursleys entirely.

Once they came down even Aunt Petunia, Uncle Vernon and Dudley seemed pleased. Aunt Petunia had looked surprised when she entered the kitchen to find it clean with turnovers on the counter top, and Uncle Vernon and Dudley's grunts of pleasure suggested the same thing. It was also good enough that by the time a knock sounded on the door, they had yet to call on him to do his daily chores.

The knock when it sounded made Harry's heart soar. He couldn't wait to see McGonagall again or to meet whoever she was bringing with her. Harry wasn't sure whether or not he should go open the door, but a second knock decided him and he hurried over, almost throwing the door open in his haste.

Two figures stood there. In front was McGonagall in a long tartan skirt suit and the man with her was in an all black suit. He had pale, sallow skin, a hooked nose and long, greasy dark hair. He was also looking at Harry with an expression of extreme distaste in his black eyes, but that quickly disappeared when McGonagall glared at him.

"Mr. Potter, I'd like to introduce you to Professor Severus Snape, one of my colleagues at Hogwarts. He is to be you Potions professor."

"Hello, Professor Snape," Harry said timidly as he held out his hand. "I'm pleased to meet you."

Snape looked him up and down as though for some flaw, sneering when he saw Harry’s clothes. Harry felt himself droop a little.

At McGonagall's second glare Snape said with forced politeness, "I'm glad to make your acquaintance as well. I see that Petunia has not changed since I last saw her." He smiled wickedly then and added, "I'll be pleased to see her again."

Uncle Vernon then yelled from the kitchen, "Who's at the door, boy? If it's anyone trying to sell us anything, tell them to go away, and if it's a visitor, then let them in already!"

"They’re here to see you, Uncle Vernon," Harry responded as Snape and McGonagall walked in, Snape sliding towards the kitchen.

"Well, who is it, boy?" Uncle Vernon yelled as he walked out of the kitchen. When he caught sight of the two professors, he sharply asked, "Who are you? If you're selling something, it's nothing that we want to buy."

By now, Aunt Petunia had also come to the doorway to greet the visitors, and she dropped the pot she was holding with a clang when she saw them. "You..., you vile man, what are you doing in my house?" She was staring at Snape with unabashed loathing. Harry's opinion of Snape quickly rose when he saw that. "You stole my sister away, you unnatural freak! She disappeared off to that school, and when she came she was eating chocolate frogs that moved and all that she could talk about were her new friends and all of her - her magic! Get out, get out!"

Snape's smile widened. "Why, Petunia, I'm glad that you haven't forgotten me, that I was... memorable. As for your sister, there's no reason to blame your jealousy on me. And as for why we are here, let's just say that Mr. Potter has manifested certain talents, as I'm sure that you've noticed. Did you think you could break it out of him? He's certainly skinny enough and in ugly enough clothes. Was hurting him a good way to repay your loathing of me and your sister?"

She gasped and Uncle Vernon's face heated red. "How do you know that?"

"Dumbledore told you that he would be keeping an eye on you, and that's preciously what we did. Did you think we wouldn't notice? Now, we are going to take the boy to Diagon Alley and return at the end of the day. I hope by then you've.... reevaluated your treatment of him."

Uncle Vernon, who had been stunned, now broke free from his stupor and began yelling. "You're one of those freaks, aren't you? Get out of my house!"

Snape looked dismissively at Uncle Vernon before waving his wand. Suddenly, a pair of bull's horns appeared on his head.

Aunt Petunia began screaming, as did Uncle Vernon when he reached to touch his horns.

Harry started laughing. Even if the day ended now, this would be his best birthday ever.

McGonagall looked torn between berating Snape and firmly agreeing on his decision. She settled on saying, "Harry, I believe it is now time for us to leave."

Harry began walking towards the door, following the two professors before he remembered the turnovers. "Oh, I forgot something."

He raced back into the house, opened up the cupboard and grabbed the two turnovers before returning to the professors' sides. "They're for you, strawberry rhubarb turnovers."  
He handed them each a turnover and looked up. Both seemed stunned. Harry was confused, Aunt Petunia always baked when she had guests over. "Haven't you eaten turnover before?" he asked.

McGonagall recovered first. "Thank you, Mr. Potter, that's very generous of you."

She paused and then took a bite and smiled. "They’re very good, Mr. Potter. My compliments to the chef.”

She glanced over at Snape.”You should try some, Severus."

Snape still looked puzzled by the pastry. "Do you not like turnovers, Professor Snape?" Harry inquired.

Snape looked up from his study of the treat and stopped to glare at McGonagall before looking back at Harry. "I believe I'll save it for later."

Harry glanced down, dejected. It was clear now that Snape disliked him.

The man sighed and quickly ate a bite. "It is quite good, Mr. Potter."

Harry gifted him with a shining smile, and the boy could have sworn that he saw a smirk on McGonagall's face.

"Thank you once again for those pastries, Mr. Potter, but we really must be off. There is a great deal of shopping to do. Oh, and happy birthday."

Harry smiled brightly.

"Happy birthday, Mr. Potter." Snape looked uncomfortable so Harry gave him an extra bright one in response to his birthday wishes.

"Thanks." It was the first he could remember someone wishing him a sincerely happy birthday.

Harry looked around but found no car waiting for them.

"Professor, how are we getting to London?"

"Oh, there's no need to worry, Mr. Potter." There was a distinct twinkle in her eyes. "Just hold onto my arm. You'll feel a little nauseous when we land, but that's quite normal for a first time."

Harry placed his hand on her outstretched arm, and, suddenly, they were spinning. As McGonagall had promised, when he landed, he felt distinctly nauseous, the world spinning, and his steps were uncoordinated. McGonagall and Snape both looked unruffled.

"You did well for a first time, Mr. Potter."

Harry smiled at this, although he thought that he probably still looked a little green.  
"Thank you, Professor McGonagall. What was that?"

"Side-Along Apparition. You'll be able to take your licensing test when you turn seventeen. Until then, you will be restricted to Side-Along. Other methods of transport are by broomstick, by portkey, by floo as well as other flying devices."

Harry's eyes went wide. "By broomstick?"

"Yes, in fact, they play a game called Quidditch at Hogwarts, which is played entirely on broomstick. You'll have an opportunity to try out for your House's team in your second year."

"Hogwarts has houses, Professor?"

"Yes, they are named for one of each of the four founders. There's Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, Slytherin and Gryffindor. I am the Head of Gryffindor House, as Professor Snape is the Head of Slytherin. When you come to Hogwarts, you will be placed in the House best suited to you."

Harry felt nervous. "What if I don't make any friends in my House?"

"Do not worry. The process is designed to place you with similar people. And even if you have few friends in your House, friendships between Houses are not forbidden." McGonagall smiled and Harry responded with his own smaller one.

McGonagall's face became abruptly more serious. "Mr. Potter, it is necessary for you to listen to me. Everyone in the Wizarding world knows who you are, everyone knows of your scar. This will be overwhelming, but, in time, they will come to know you as a person."

For the first time since arriving, Snape spoke as well. "The Wizarding world is not perfect, Mr. Potter, nor a fairytale setting. Because your mother came from a family of Muggles, there may be some who will hold you in contempt. However, you are the Boy Who Lived and the heir of a long-standing pureblood line, so they may disregard it. Be that as it may, wizards who are from even one Muggle or Muggleborn parent are looked down upon by even the poorest of pureblood families.

"Mr. Potter, in truth, they are afraid of changing their ways, and the introduction of more and more Muggleborns makes them worry for their way of life. If you treat them with respect and are courteous, they will not make trouble for you. It was this fear that caused them to side with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. However, they cannot be ignored, especially as they will not ignore you. Do you understand, Mr. Potter?"

Harry gulped. He had known of course that it wouldn't be perfect but he had still hoped. Softly, he said, "Yes, Professor Snape. I didn’t ask you before because I wanted to know about my parents but exactly is a Muggle and who is ‘He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?"

"A Muggle is a non-magical person, Mr. Potter. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is the Dark wizard that I spoke to you of before. You must understand Mr. Potter, we do this so that you will not dream that this is the solution to all of your problems, only to have that hope crushed. But, I believe that you can withstand this, for you have already proven twice that you are a survivor."  McGonagall said this last sentence with firm belief and determination, and Harry met it with his own.

More strongly now, he said, "I'll remember, Professor."

McGonagall smiled at this, but it was not a happy smile. Snape stood silent, his face calculating.

 

#

 

Both professors began walking to a side street that smelled of piss and looked like it had not been cleaned in several years. Harry was very confused. Perhaps this was a shortcut?

Ahead, the professors were talking together as though Harry could not hear them.  
"Albus would not thank you for that, Minerva. He worries about the boy's innocence." The last word was said sarcastically.

"That poor boy has been through quite enough. You wouldn't believe the stories he’s told me. Locked in a cupboard, deprived of food, beaten by his cousin, no friends except myself and a Kneazle... Albus would not listen to my suggestion that he be removed. I couldn't let him believe that everything would be perfect, only to have that hope destroyed. At least if he knows the reality, he will be able to deal with it. Despite all of his trials, he still has hope. He still baked those turnovers for us, even though he did not know who you were, just as he responded to his letter all on his own. He is strong, and I will not weaken him by insisting that he be innocent of the world." By the end, she was quite loud but did not appear to consider that Harry might have heard or perhaps didn't care.

"You are quite wrong if you think I disapprove, Minerva. On the contrary, I agree with you. I'm just warning you that your actions may have repercussions."

"I was right, you must admit it now. Despite your feelings about his father, you do not dislike the boy, although you are still trying to."

"As you said, he is resilient. That is more than I expected."

Harry smiled and walked faster, straining to hear what they were saying but they’d stopped talking as they stood before a black metal door, which looked to be almost hanging off its hinges. They both ran their wands along their bodies, transforming their clothing into robes. Both professors opened it and walked through, while Harry scurried after them.  
The door opened onto an old pub, the likes of which one could see everywhere in Britain. Harry doubted however that most contained people wearing odd coloured or patterned cloaks and pointy hats and using wands. People nodded to both professors, but when Harry entered, muttering began to fill the space.

The first person brave enough to come up to him was an old witch with purple robes and a folded pointed cap with a knitted ball on the point. "I'm so pleased to meet. Thank you ever so much. To think I would meet you before I died."

Many others came up to greet him, some who hugged him, some who shook his hand and still others who did stranger things. The last of his well-wishers was a young man, clearly very nervous. McGonagall came up beside him and said, "Mr. Potter, this is your Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Quirrell.”

"P-P-Potter," stammered Quirrell, grasping Harry's hand, "c-can't t-tell you how p- pleased I am to meet you." Snape looked neither impressed nor respectful of his colleague.  
Harry shook Quirrell’s clammy hand and then followed the other professors out of the back door into the backyard. McGonagall tapped her wand in a pattern on one of the brick walls. Suddenly, the wall began opening onto a crowded street. Everyone seemed to be wearing robes or a strange hat.

He heard "Dragon liver, sixteen Sickles an ounce..." being called out and "Beetle eyes, five Knuts a scoop." It was chaotic. Harry found himself doubting his senses.

McGonagall smiled at him, and Harry thought he could detect a hint of one at the edges of Snape's mouth as well.

"It's rather overwhelming the first time, Mr. Potter, but don't worry, you'll get used to it eventually. Do you have your shopping list?"

Harry nodded in response to McGonagall's query but couldn't bring himself to look away from the vendors and the customers and the children, all bustling about on the narrow cobblestone street.

"We'll go to Gringotts first, the Wizarding bank, and then we'll come back to the shops to buy your supplies," she added.

They slowly pushed through the crowds until they reached a large, white  marble building at the end of the road. The stairs leading up to it were no less impressive. Inside, in addition to witches and wizards, there were small men with noses even larger and more hooked than Snape, wearing exquisite suits nicer than even the head of Uncle Vernon's company had worn the time he'd come for dinner.

Having seen Harry's questioning glance McGonagall said, "Those are goblins. They run Gringotts."

They walked to an empty piece of the counter where a Goblin stared down at them from atop a large stool. "What's your business today?"

"A withdrawal from the vault of Mr. H. Potter," said McGonagall as she removed a small golden key from her robes. The goblin peered at it with the kind of lens Harry had once seen a jeweller use. He muttered to himself and finally grunted. "Follow Griphook to the vault," he said, giving the key to another goblin.

They followed the goblin named Griphook into a door at the end of the main hall. In the next room was a set of rails and a small cart, like a mining cart. The goblin on the platform next to the cart nodded at Griphook, and the group sat down. Suddenly, the cart began falling, following the rails down into a deep pit, curving sharply, beginning a climb while it travelled at breakneck speed. Harry laughed harder than he ever had before, gripping the cart tightly, eyes shining. When they stopped at a platform in front of a large set of doors, neither McGonagall nor Snape looked amused, although both were looking at Harry in the way that adults do at children enjoying things which they remembered enjoying at that age.

Griphook placed the small key into a hole in the doorway, and both massive doors swung open abruptly to reveal treasures unlike anything Harry had ever seen. Gold coins were piled to the ceiling and treasures and furniture on top of that. Paintings with bright colours and statues of gold... Harry was speechless. He had never seen this much money before, and it was his. He turned shining eyes on the professors. McGonagall was smiling at him, but Snape was merely looking disdainfully at the contents of the vault.

McGonagall said, "Please put one hundred Galleons into this pouch Mr. Potter. That should be quite enough for all of your supplies and for the rest year."

Harry did as he was told, and the vault doors snapped shut behind him. The journey back to the top was almost as much fun as the journey down, and Harry was all smiles when they returned to the surface. His money bag was very heavy. Harry didn't think he'd ever had so much money, although he didn't know how many Galleons to a pound. He didn't think even Dudley had ever had so much money. That thought in particular carried his smile all the way down the street.  
  


#  
  


"First stop is to buy your uniform at Madame Malkin's Fine Robes for All Occasions. Severus will be at the Apothecary," here she pointed, "while I will be at Flourish and Blots," she pointed to a shop closer to Gringotts. "When you are done, come find Professor Snape, who will guide you through buying your cauldron, your potions ingredients and any other equipment you might need. Then, you will both come to Flourish and Blots, where we will buy your books. Do you understand?"

Harry nodded, but, as he walked into the store, he glanced back to see both Snape and McGonagall watching him enter the shop and his heart lightened. They probably just want me to meet some students my own age without them worrying about what they're going to say in front of a teacher, he reasoned. McGonagall didn’t seem like the type to set him up to fail.

A motherly old witchy stopped him as he entered the shop and said, "A new student at Hogwarts? I'm Madame Malkin, the owner of this shop. If you go back there and stand on one of the platforms, I'll be there in the twitch of a tail feather. There's another first year back there too being fitted for his robes."

Harry walked back into the shop where there were indeed two stools. One held a pale, blond-haired boy with pointy features and grey eyes, while the other was empty. The boy was covered in a black robe, and a second witch was pinning it up. His blond hair was combed pack so that it covered his head like a shiny helmet. As Harry stepped onto his platform, the boy's eyes turned to Harry and his face lit up.

His voice was prim and perfectly pitched as he began drawling to Harry. "Hello. Hogwarts too?"

Harry nodded. "Yes, my first year."

"My father's next door buying my books, and Mother's up the street looking at wands. Then, I'm going to drag them off to look at racing brooms. I don't see why first years can't have their own. I think I'll bully father into getting me one, or I'll smuggle one in somehow."

Harry looked doubtfully at the boy. He was uncomfortably reminded of Dudley.

Madame Malkin walked in, threw the black robe over his head, and began pinning it. "I didn't think first years could play Quidditch?"

"Do you play Quidditch? Have you got your own broom? I do. Father says it's a crime if I'm not picked to play for my House, and I must say that I agree."

"I can't wait to play Quidditch either, but I don't have my own broom. I hope that I'm good enough to make to team come second year." For all the other boy's confidence, it was clear that he was as nervous as Harry about making the team, if the talk of his father was anything to go by. Harry could certainly understand that sentiment.

"Do you know which House you'll be in yet? Well, no one really knows until they get there, but I know that I'll be in Slytherin, all my family has been. Imagine being placed in Hufflepuff, the lowest of the low. I think I'd leave, wouldn't you?"

Harry looked down. "That's what I'm most worried about. Professor McGonagall said that we'll be placed in a House where we can make friends, but she didn't say how they pick. Why don't you want to be in Hufflepuff?"

"You know McGonagall?"

"Yes, she and Professor Snape brought me to Diagon Alley."

"McGonagall is the Head for Gryffindor. My father says that only fools throw themselves into danger the way that Gryffindors do."

"But McGonagall didn't seem foolish. She can turn into a cat."

"Really? I suppose there are exceptions..." However, the boy looked doubtful. "But Professor Snape is the best. He's my godfather and he teaches Potions. I think that will be my favourite subject. He's taught me how to make some really cool ones. What's your favourite class going to be?"

The boy's growing enthusiasm was infectious, and Harry managed a smile. "I'm not sure. They all sound so fun."

"My parents say that History of Magic is the most boring, but my father also says that all knowledge is worth having. Where are your parents?"

Harry's face dropped. He'd been so pleased to be making a friend, for all that he sometimes reminded him of Dudley, that the sudden subject change brought his spirits down rapidly. Quietly he said, "They're dead."

The boy's face froze in shock. "Oh, sorry."

The silence which followed was awkward and the boy suddenly said, "But they were our kind, weren't they?"

Harry remembered McGonagall and Snape's words. It was true what they had said, but this boy really didn’t seem so bad. He only reminded him of Dudley a little bit.

"They went to Hogwarts."

"I really don't think they should let the other sort in, do you? They've never been brought up to know our ways. Some of them have never even heard of Hogwarts until they get the letter. Imagine. I think they should keep to the old Wizarding families, don't you?"

Harry, who wasn't sure how to answer, was thankfully saved by Madame Malkin who had finished hemming his robes. "Now, let me slip these over your head nice and easy, we don't want you getting stuck with any pins."

As Harry stepped off the bench, the boy suddenly said, "I'm Draco Malfoy, what's your name?"

"Harry." He smiled. "I'm glad I met you."

Draco smiled too. "I'll see you on the Hogwarts Express, Harry."  
  


#

Harry walked over to the Apothecary where Snape was waiting. The boy, Draco, hadn't been so bad, but he was glad that the professors had warned him about how some looked down on those who weren't born to wizards and had told him about Quidditch and the Houses. He could only imagine how much worse that conversation would have been if they hadn't. After the Dursleys he didn’t see much point in being protected.

He was rather reluctant to be with Snape on his own. He agreed with Draco’s assesment of his intelligence, but he was uncertain how the professor would treat him without McGonagall's presence.

The Apothecary smelled foul. Ingredients were lying in buckets, barrels, balanced on shelves, stuffed into jars... The shop was rather empty, but Snape stood at the counter, talking to the storekeeper and dominating the conversation. Perhaps he was attempting to bargain a price? Certain that he would not want to be disturbed, Harry turned his eyes instead on the ingredients. Some, like the newt's eyes, were very cheap and were overflowing from their bucket like Harry had once seen in a bulk food store. Others, like a unicorn horn and something called a bezoar were displayed individually in locked cabinets. Harry wondered if there were ingredients in the back room that were rarer and more costly than those.  
There was also near the window a collection of black boxes about the size of a briefcase. 'Standard First-Year Potions' Kit' the sign read, '15 Galleons.' Harry was about to pull one from the pile, moving up onto tiptoe to reach when he felt pressure on his shoulder. He looked up and found Snape next to him.

"Stay away from those kits. They’re rubbish and overpriced as well. Now, Mr. Potter, there is a supply cupboard at the school, but it is used by all the students and, as such, ingredients are not always of the best quality. We are here to prepare your own basic kit," here he glared once more at the pre-made ones and then at the shopkeeper for good measure.  "And, I will also teach you how to pick the best ingredients."

"Professor? What's a bezoar?"

Snape’s face twitched. "A bezoar is a stone found in a goat's stomach. It is, as you noticed, very expensive because it is the antidote to all known poisons.

“Now, one of the most common mistakes that students make is choosing the wrong or poor quality ingredients. I will be most disappointed, Mr. Potter, if after this lesson you join their number."

Harry gulped.

Snape pointed at three jars labelled horned slugs. "Which jar would you pick?"

Harry stared blankly at the three jars. There seemed to be no difference between them.  
"Foolish boy, go closer to them, pick them up, inspect their contents, smell them!"

At the last, Harry wrinkled his nose. He was certain that they smelled foul and equally certain that the shop smelled bad enough that he doubted he would even be able to distinguish their foulness. Still, he stepped closer to the counter. Up close, it was clear that one of the jars held more than the others. As he picked them up individually and began turning them, he discovered that one had a loose cork when he abruptly twisted it and liquid escaped.  Immediately, he put that one down, having rejected it. He was now left with two, but he didn't want to smell them. Instead, he held each one up to his eyes. Finally, he placed one of them on the table.

"I'd pick this one, Professor."

"And can you tell me why you would pick that particular jar?" The professor's voice was like silk being pulled over a knife.

"Well, um, its cork seems tight and it’s the most full."

"Unfortunately, wrong, Mr. Potter. Although, you are partially correct. The first jar had been improperly sealed and thus was not suitable. However, this jar is not correct either."

Harry's eyes dropped. A few moments passed in silence before Snape snapped, "Well, aren't you going to try again? Or will you quit before you have even started?"

Harry raised his eyes, determined. He knew which jar it had to be now; now he just had to find out why. Quickly, he unscrewed the cork of each and smelled them. The full one smelled better than the emptier one, but perhaps they were supposed to smell terrible. "Um, because it doesn't smell right?"

Snape gave a quick nod. "Yes, picking potions ingredients is much like shopping for fruits and vegetable. Smell is one of our most accurate indicators of quality. Now, put that in this basket. Here are some snake fangs, should you buy them crushed or uncrushed?"

On it went, Snape asking him each time to pick the best ingredient. At first, he often got it wrong, but as they progressed around the store Harry noticed that he was getting more things right. The answers were also becoming more complex: for instance, the thickness of flobberworm mucus that one chose depended on the applications, although Snape suggested medium grade for first-year laboratories. As they paid for his supplies at counter, Harry felt a small jolt of happiness. Maybe he’d be able to do well at Hogwarts. Before he’d always had to make sure that his marks were below Dudley’s unless he wanted to lose a meal.

  
#

 

Their visit to the cauldron shop and to the equipment shop was much the same. Snape asked Harry questions, most of which he did not know the answers to, and Snape pushed him until he did. He’d felt like crying sometimes, especially when he’d made the same mistake more than once, but as they began walking towards Flourish and Blots, Harry felt a glimmer of pride. He’d done it.

Flourish and Blots had books on every wall and on bookshelves throughout the room. It was quite difficult to find McGonagall amongst all the shelves, however. Harry was also looking for Draco's father, but as he had no idea what he might look like or even if he was still here, so he gave it up as a bad job.

"Do you have your book list, Mr. Potter?"

Harry nodded.

"We must attempt to find Minerva in this madhouse, but keep an eye out for your books as well."

Harry gathered up his courage. "Professor? Are there any books that you suggest buying? Like how you said I should get some of my own ingredients?"

Snape snorted but said, "Not a bad question, Mr. Potter. There are some supplementary books. An Encyclopedia of Potions would not be a bad idea, and Chopping, Dicing and Crushing explains how potions ingredients are processed. Hogwarts: A History is dull, but will give you information about Hogwarts. As for your other subjects, Important Modern Magical Discoveries may be too advanced for you, but would provide a good background for all of your courses..."

Harry, in the middle of reaching for Hogwarts: A History saw another book on the shelf, Quidditch Through the Ages. He picked it up immediately. Snape looked disgusted but continued without interruption.

They had not seen McGonagall by the time Harry had paid for his books, and they left the shop in search of her.

"I decided to wait out here once I say how busy it was. It looks like they'll be a large class this fall, Severus."

Snape looked far less delighted by that idea than McGonagall.

"Now, Harry, as it's your birthday why don't we pop down to the ice cream parlour?" McGonagall continued.

Harry smiled while Snape looked unenthusiastic and they continued down the road to Florean Fortescue’s Ice Cream Parlour.

Harry resisted the urge to press his face against the glass. He had never seen so many flavours before. It seemed impossible to choose between them all, but he settled on something called "Dragon's Chocolate." It was at once spicy and full of chocolate and when he finished, he suddenly shot forth a blast of fire! Snape did not look amused that McGonagall had not warned him of the flavour's danger.

"Well, Mr. Potter, have you decided which animal you will bring with you?" Snape asked.

"I thought that I'd just take Bear. They said that I'm only allowed one animal."

"While that is certainly the case, having your own owl will make things easier for you and provide greater security for your post."

"He's too young to be thinking about the security of his post, Severus," McGonagall interrupted.

"He is the Boy Who Lived; he is not too young."

"But what about Bear?"

"I suppose if a Kneazle happened to follow you to Hogwarts, there's nothing any of the staff could do about it."

Harry burst into a large smile. "Really, Professor? Thank you, thank you!" Then, without pause, he wrapped his arms around her.

McGonagall patted him on the back and locked eyes with Snape. "You're welcome, Mr. Potter. Now, that is quite enough."

Harry finally decided his owl with much deliberation: a snowy owl with intelligent eyes. Even Snape looked almost pleased by his selection.

"Our last stop is to get your wand, Mr. Potter. The best place is Olivander's."

Olivander's was a narrow, shabby old shop tucked into a corner of Diagon Alley. "Olivander's" it read, "Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C." In a dusty old window on a purple pillow lay a wand. When Harry entered the shop, he saw that an old man stood at the counter and that all the shelves were covered in little wooden cases.

"Good afternoon," said a soft voice. He had large eyes that looked like moons on his face. "Ah, yes, yes, yes, I thought I'd be seeing you soon. Harry Potter. You have your mother's eyes. It seems only yesterday that she was in here buying her first wand. Ten and a quarter inches long, swishy, made of willow. Nice wand for charm work."

Harry’s throat clenched, his breath stuck.

"Your father on the other hand favoured a mahogany wand. Eleven inches, pliable, little more power, excellent for Transfiguration. Well, I say your father favoured it, but it's really the wand which chooses the wizard, of course."

McGonagall had, of course, told him some things about his parents but to know these details, the wands that they had carried... Mr. Olivander had been stepping closer to Harry. Suddenly, his hand shot out and tapped his scar.

"And that's where -" He paused and his face turned down.  
"I'm sorry to say that I sold the wand that did it. Thirteen and a half inches, yew. Powerful wand, very powerful and in the wrong hands... Hwuhou. Well, if I'd know what that wand was going out into the world to do."

The man's eyes dimmed, some of their unearthliness turned down. Then, he turned suddenly to look at McGonagall.

"McGonagall, Professor McGonagall... A fir wand, nine and a half inches, with a core of dragon's heartstring. Very powerful and one of the best for Transfiguration; very stiff, I believe. Better even than your father's, Harry."

McGonagall nodded.

"As for you, Severus Snape..."

Snape did not allow him to continue. Instead, his voice was cold as he said quietly, "The boy needs a wand, Olivander, not to hear a list of every wand you've ever sold."

Mr. Olivander turned away from him and back at Harry. "Hum. Well, Mr. Potter, let me see."

He took a silvery measuring tape out of his pocket.

"So which is your wand arm?"

Harry was confused. So far as he knew, he did not have a wand arm. "Well, I write with my right."

"Hold it out then." He proceeded to measure from his finger to his shoulder, but then began to measure all sorts of strange things, like the distance from his left foot to his right ear or from his belly button to his collarbone.

"Every Olivander wand has the core of a powerful magical substance. We use unicorn hairs, phoenix tail feathers, and the heart strings of dragons. No two Olivander wands are the same, just as no two unicorns, dragons or phoenixes are quite the same. And of course, you'll never get such good results as from another wizard's wand."

The measuring tape, which was continuing to measure him, was, in fact, measuring on its own while Mr. Olivander flitted around the shop, gathering boxes that he placed on the table.  
"That'll do." The tape measure stopped and fell into a heap on the floor.

"Right then, Mr. Potter. Beech wood, dragon heart string, nine inches, nice and flexible. Just take it and give it a wave."

Harry did just that, feeling foolish, but Mr. Olivander quickly took it from him.

"Maple and phoenix feather. Seven inches. Quite whippy. Try - No, no - here, ebony and unicorn hair, eight and a half inches, springy. Go on, go on, try it out."

And so it continued: he would try a wand, and Mr. Olivander would take it away. Despite all of this, Mr. Olivander looked happier and happier, while both professors were looking equally confused.

"Tricky customer, eh? Not to worry, we'll find the perfect match here somewhere - I wonder, now - yes, why not - unusual combination, holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple."

Harry grabbed the wand, but the moment his fingers touched the wood, he knew that this was it. It felt warm and Harry, despite his previous apathy, was suddenly energised. When he brought it down, swishing it, a flurry of red and gold sparks shot out of the end of it like fireworks. Harry turned to smile at his professors, both were looking at him, McGonagall smiling and Snape looking like he might be feeling proud of Harry.

Harry turned back to Mr. Olivander with a smile.

"Oh bravo! Yes, indeed, very good. Well, well, well... how curious... how very curious..."

"What's so curious, Mr. Olivander?"

Mr. Olivander turned his head and locked his eyes with Harry's. "I remember every wand I've ever sold, Mr. Potter. Every single wand. It so happens that the phoenix whose tail feather is in your wand, gave another feather - just one other. It is very curious indeed that you should be destined for this wand when its brother - why, its brother gave you that scar."

Harry couldn't look at the professors.

"Yes, thirteen and a half inches. Yew. Curious indeed how these things happen. The wand choses the wizard, remember... I think we must expect great things from you, Mr. Potter... After all, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things - terrible, yes, but great."

Harry paid his seven galleons, and then quickly left the shop without looking at either of his guardians.

"Mr. Potter."

Harry turned to look at McGonagall, who had spoken. More gently, she said, "Your train ticket. Now, let us take you back. Don't worry; the Dursleys will bring you to King's Cross Station on the 1st of September. And I wouldn't worry about the wand. You have been marked, Mr. Potter, but even so, you will be able to distinguish yourself with effort and fortitude."


	4. The Train at Platform Nine and Three Quarters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry makes his way to Platform Nine and Three Quarters. On his way to Hogwarts he makes some friends and sees some others again for the second time.

When Harry arrived at the Dursleys, he found it changed. His things had been moved into Dudley's second bedroom. The room had previously held all of Dudley's broken toys and shelves filled with books, completely untouched. Every time Dudley had ever received a book for his birthday, it had gone straight to the shelf.

Although the toys had been removed, Harry was even more surprised to find that the books had not. The room now contained the bookshelves, a dresser and his old cot. Harry was glad that Professor McGonagall had levitated his trunk up to his room, as he doubted he would have been able to carry it or that any of the Dursleys would have touched it.

The professors' visit to number four had indeed led to a large change in Harry's style of life. Not once in the last weeks of the summer had any of the Dursleys interacted with him at all. He would have been worried about getting to Platform Nine and Three Quarters had it not been for Professor Snape's assurance that he had "handled" it.

Hedwig was also quite comfortable in his new room, and Harry was able to take an old coat stand he'd found on the street and turn it into a post for her by wrapping rope around it. She thankfully hunted on her own, but did seem to appreciate the owl treats that he had bought her. She never said no to him petting her either. He had found her name in his History of Magic book.

For the first time in his life, he was able to read for pleasure. There were all of Dudley's books, of course, but far more interesting than that were his course books and the supplementary books which Professor Snape had suggested. Hogwarts: A History was indeed dull, but had all sorts of information about Hogwarts. For instance, apparently the ceiling of the Great Hall was bewitched to look like the outside sky, and Muggles, when they approached the castle, saw only a dilapidated ruin with a sign saying "DANGER, UNSAFE, KEEP OUT." Harry couldn't wait to see how the castle compared to his imagination.  
What the book did not really explain was the House system. By the end of the book, Harry had no more ideas about which house he would be best suited to. He felt neither courageous nor intelligent nor cunning. He was certain that he did not want to be in Hufflepuff, he was sick of being picked last. But he imagined being in Gryffindor with Professor McGonagall or Slytherin with Professor Snape and Draco and smiled.

Being ignored meant that Harry no longer had to do any of the chores around the house. He cooked his own meals, which he timed so as never to coincide with the Dursleys' own. The few times he saw Dudley, he looked terrified of Harry, and he didn't see Uncle Vernon at all.  
He spent most of his time in the garden where he sat with Bear in the hedges. He told him all about Diagon Alley, promising him that he'd take him there sometime. Bear turned tail at this and skulked away. Harry had to coax him back with his own lunch. Maybe he wouldn't be bringing Bear to Diagon Alley after all. Hedwig and Bear seemed to get along as well the few times they had met.

With all of his free time September 1st was soon upon him.  
  


#  
  


The Dursleys drove him to King's Cross Station. It seemed that Uncle Vernon had been avoiding more than Harry; he had yet to remove his horns. In fact, they were coming to London to have them surgically removed. Harry wasn't surprised that they had managed to pretend that they weren't coming here for him. Taking his trunk out of the car was really quite difficult, especially since he also had to handle Hedwig's cage and Bear who was tucked into one of Dudley's larger jackets. One of the staff helped him lift his trunk on a cart, although he looked at Hedwig strangely. Seeing boys bringing their cats in their jackets was clearly par for the course, for when he saw Bear's head, he smiled and said, "My son's got a cat too. Would take him with him everywhere if he could."

Harry smiled back at him and began pushing his trolley towards platform nine and three quarters. He knew that he was supposed to go to platform nine and three quarters because that was what was written on his ticket, but nothing in Hogwarts: A History had specified how he was supposed reach that platform. Between the plastic signs of platform nine and ten was only a wall.

He looked at the clock in the station and saw that it was growing closer and closer to the train's departure time. He was beginning to look around desperately when he suddenly caught sight of a cluster of redheads. One of their trolleys was topped with an owl cage. Perhaps they were going to Hogwarts, too?

He walked up to them and heard confirmation that they were indeed going to Hogwarts. Pleased, he asked for their help in getting through to the platform. With a laugh, the mother, Molly Weasley explained that all he had to do was run at the wall between the platforms.   
Having seen some of her children disappear after doing so, Harry worked up his courage and ran through the wall onto a new platform. A great, red steam engine stood there, gleaming. The platform was crowded with all sorts of people. The twins helped Harry with his trunk and were rewarded with the knowledge that he was Harry Potter, something which they clearly enjoyed knowing. Still, they were good about it and didn't bug him about his scar.  
  


#  
  


Harry wandered along the train's corridor. It seemed that every compartment was full, and he didn't see Draco anywhere. Finally, at the end of the corridor, he found an empty compartment. He couldn't lift his trunk onto the luggage rack, so he put it at his feet instead while he placed Hedwig and her cage on the seat across from him. She was silent but gently nipped at his finger and he smiled.

"We're going to be okay. You're going to make lots of owl friends, won't you?"

Suddenly, Bear pushed out of his jacket. Harry laughed. "What did I tell you? You have to stay in there. I couldn't let you walk all the way to Scotland. What if you'd gotten lost?"

Bear just butted his head against Harry's face and lapped at his finger with his sandpaper tongue. "I see you want me to pet you."

Bear obviously agreed with this assessment and started purring when Harry brushed his hand across his back. Bear was still purring when one of the red-headed boys from the platform opened up the door to his compartment.

"Anyone sitting here? Everywhere else is full."

Harry smiled.  "No, it's just a bit full in here with my trunk and Hedwig."

Ron smiled and the twins popped in. After clearing up that he really was Harry Potter, Ron's response of "Brilliant, mate" let them settle into a comfortable discussion. Harry started by talking about his relatives and his visit to Diagon Alley. The professors' presence brought questions and comments from Ron: McGonagall was strict but mad about Quidditch, and Snape favoured the Slytherins and was a slimy snake like the rest of them.

Harry decided not to mention that he'd come to almost like Professor Snape, for all the man's gruffness, or to ask Ron about Draco at that comment and sighed. He'd been hoping to see Draco on the train. Despite what Ron had said about the Slytherins, Harry couldn't forget his the look of pride that had quickly passed through Professor Snape's eyes when he'd picked the right bundle of Wolfsbane on the first try or when he had found his wand.

By now, though, Ron had moved on and wanted to hear about his Aunt and Uncle, his Muggles as Ron called them. Harry did talk to Ron about the Dursleys, and Ron talked about his family. Soon, the sweet trolley came by. Harry, who had never had money before, quickly bought a wide selection to the delight of Ron, who had been going to eat a sandwich instead. Their conversation turned to the wide variety of candy in front of them.   
  


#  
  


Harry was smiling when a tearful round-faced boy came in. "Sorry, but have you seen a toad around?"

Harry shook his head sadly. He couldn't imagine losing Bear on the train. The thought gave him an idea. McGonagall had said that Bear was smart, right?

"I have a Kneazle here. How about we see what Bear can do?"

The boy looked surprised. Harry imagined that he must have been hoping that someone would volunteer to help for a long time. Harry remembered feeling that way.

"But, Harry..."

"Ron, why don't you stay and guard our treats? We'll be back soon."

"Harry," he said with a wave as they walked down the car.

"Oh.. I’m Neville– Neville Longbottom."

Harry smiled at the other boy. "Alright, Bear, find Neville's toad."

Bear peered up at Harry incredulously before quickly walking over to a near-by bathroom. In the sink sat Neville's toad.

"Oh, Trevor!"

Neville held his toad tight to his chest.

"My Great Uncle Algie gave him to me after he accidentally dropped me out a window. Instead of falling to the ground, I bounced. Before that, my family thought I was a Squib."

"What's a Squib?"

"Someone who's born into a magical family with no magical powers."

"It was the opposite for me. My aunt and uncle hated when I showed the slightest hint of magic. My aunt used to try to cut my hair, but it would grow back the next day. One time, I was running away from some bullies, and I ended up on the school roof. I was grounded both times."

"Wow, my family would have thrown a party for any of that."

"Hey, Neville, do you want to sit with us?"

Neville was silent before he stammered out. "Thanks, Harry, but I already have a compartment."

Harry looked doubtfully at Neville. "Well, if you change your mind with your help Ron and I should be able to lift our trunks onto the luggage rack. We'll have more room that way."  
Neville smiled. "That's nice of you, thanks again, Harry." He walked away and Harry started walking back to his own compartment.

"Poor, Neville, don't you think Bear?"

But Bear was already pouncing away. Harry hurried after him. He didn't want to have to go door to door like Neville; for all that he knew that Bear was smart enough to come back on his own. He was walking quite quickly at this point, but stopped when he saw a small blonde head bending down to pick up Bear.

"What's a Kneazle doing on board? You've still got your tail intact and no tags on you, but you're hardly wild."

Harry smiled. "Hi, Draco, Bear's mine actually."

Draco looked up at him. "Well, that's certainly a rare pet that you've got. What breeder did he come from?"

"Oh, no breeder at all; he just sort of found me."

Draco smirked. "Picked by a Kneazle, you're certainly special. Where are you sitting?"

"Compartment at the end of the hall; what about you?"

"Oh, I'm sitting with some of the other purebloods. Would you like me to introduce you to them?"

Harry sighed. "I left someone in the compartment that I was in. If I don't come back, he might get worried."

Draco's face dropped.

"But he's really into Quidditch, just like you. How about we stop by the compartment, and I'll introduce you?"

"Well, I suppose," Draco drawled and Harry let out a giggle.

"A bit too much, you think?"

"Just a little, Draco."

"You never told me your full name, Harry."

"Oh, sorry." Harry held out his hand. "Harry Potter, and this is Bear."

"You're Harry Potter?" Draco's voice was very high at this point.

"Um, yeah."

Then, his posture straightened and he said, "Draco Malfoy."

As they walked towards Harry's compartment, Harry, in an effort to break the tension said, "So, did you get that broom after all? I looked at them at the Quidditch store. They were beautiful."

"No, Father said that the broom would be an incentive for me to make the team next year. But I do have my own full-sized broom at home, so I've been practicing. What about you? What did you do with the rest of your summer?"

"Well, I was free to do whatever I wanted, so I spent a lot of time out in the garden with Bear and I read all my textbooks. Some of the things I wasn't sure about, but Professor Snape suggested some supplementary books that really did help. He said that he didn't want me embarrassing him."

"Professor Snape once helped me make a colour-changing potion. I slipped it into my father's tea one day, and his hair turned green. He was furious with me but proud too when Uncle Severus said that I'd made it all on my own. Plus, I made it green, and since it's his House colour, he was okay with it."

They had arrived at the compartment. He pulled the door open and said, "Hi Ron, this is Draco. Draco, this is Ron–"

"I know who he is: red hair, freckles, mended clothes, you must be a Weasley."

Ron stood up. "Malfoy, your father–"

Harry quickly stepped in between them. "You know each other?”

"Of course we do. Weasley's father works at the Ministry with my father, and for all that he's a blood traitor, the Weasleys are purebloods."

"But you're both my friends. Why can't you get along?"

"He's a Malfoy, Harry. He's a Dark Wizard, just like You-Know-Who."

"Ron, I met him in a robe shop. He's the one who told me all about Quidditch."

"You wouldn't understand, Harry. You weren't raised like us. Weasleys and Malfoys are never friends."

"But you don't have to be friends. I just want you to be friends with me. Look Ron, Draco's going to introduce me to his friends. You can stay here. I'll stay there for a bit and then come back."

"Harry, he'll corrupt you, and his friends will too."

"Ron, he was my first real friend, you're my second. I'll be back soon. I'll even take Bear with me for protection."

Both Ron and Draco looked less than pleased by this, and Draco's mutterings as they walked towards his compartment were less than complimentary.

Harry sighed. This was going to be harder than he had thought.

As they neared Draco compartment, Draco stopped muttering to say, "You've got to make a good impression, stand up tall. You'll have to make sure that none of that Weasley scruffiness is catching. And, here."

"Here" was apparently code for, "Let me try to fix your hair, but really only make it worse than before and make sure that your scar is visible."

Still, Harry submitted to it, and Draco quickly opened the door.

"Harry, I'd like to introduce you to Blaise Zabini, Pansy Parkinson, Theodore Nott, Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle. They're friends of the family. I'd like to introduce you all to Harry Potter."

Harry shook each of their hands and each gave a perfectly polite handshake in return. Stronger handshakes from the boys and a firm, but gentle one from the sole girl. Harry felt like he had entered some strange dimension where adults looked like children.

"Blaise Zabini, pleased to meet you."

"Pansy Parkinson, charmed."

"Theodore Nott, pleased to make your acquaintance."

"Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle."

"Um, Harry, Harry Potter; it's nice to meet Draco's friends." Harry pulled out his pet. "And this is Bear."

As one, their eyes came to rest on Draco. A few offered a raised eyebrow, others quizzical looks, and Crabbe and Goyle just looked confused. When Bear was introduced however, Pansy moved forward and began playing with him, much to Bear's confusion.  
Draco continued his introductions. "I met him in the robe shop before he introduced himself properly. Harry's into Quidditch too."

This apparently was the magic word. Parkinson threw herself onto him. "Thank you for saving us from Draco's endless Quidditch talk. I have no desire to hear about some nineteenth century manoeuvre that has gone out of style, but which a Harpy player has recently used, thus sparking a resurgence. I think, for that, you can call me Pansy."

Draco pouted. "But you said you loved my helicopter story."

"Honestly, Draco, you've told it nearly a hundred times. Of course we're tired of it."

There was general nodding.

"Nice to meet you, Pansy."

"He knows Snape and McGonagall," piped Draco.

All eyes turned to him. "Well?"

Harry blushed and looked down. "I lived with my aunt and uncle, both of them Muggles who hated magic. Professor McGonagall and Professor Snape came to bring me to Diagon Alley. They were both very helpful. I can't wait to see what they're like in class."

"You lived with Muggles? You, Harry Potter? Why this is an outrage," shrieked Pansy. "Oh Draco, surely your father can do something about that. What was Dumbledore thinking?"

"Calm down, Pansy. You know that that old fool doesn't listen to my father. But it is certainly telling that the only people that Muggle-loving fool trusts our Saviour with are some Muggles."

Harry felt like he should defend them, say something about how not all Muggles were like the Dursleys but if Draco and his father could help him get away from them...

"Who are you talking about?"

"Dumbledore, the Headmaster at Hogwarts. He holds several important positions and has since after his defeat of the last Dark wizard, Grindelwald. Some feel that he has not kept some of the traditions alive, in favour of including Muggleborn or wizards like you who were raised without that knowledge. It's helpful for you of course; it makes the transition easier, but for us... Many of those traditions have a long history behind them and some are quite important, so it's difficult for us to justify their removal."

"Oh," said Harry softly.

Draco, turning to see the look on Harry's face, quickly changed topic. "After going over your course books, which class are you most looking forward to?"

"Oh, well, all of the books were pretty amazing: there's so much that magic can do! There was some stuff that I didn't really understand, especially in Potions, but Professor Snape suggested some good books for the basics of Potions, as well as for the basics of magic. I can't believe that Hogwarts has moving staircases! But I still don't know which course I'm going to like best."

Blaise Zabini, the only dark-skinned wizard among them besides Harry, spoke for the first time. "My mother says that your best subject is often a reflection of your magic and personality. Some subjects will come to you instinctively and others will require all your effort."

Harry was feeling nervous again. "Well, I guess I'll find out." Privately, he was worried that his magic and his personality wouldn't fit with any of the subjects.

The discussion continued like that for a while, and in time, even Goyle and Crabbe had something to say: apparently they couldn't wait to play as Beaters. This started another Quidditch discussion, which had Pansy looking both annoyed and confused by the end of it.

It was so different from his talk with Ron, but he enjoyed it just the same. With Ron, there had been a lot of bad jokes and him talking about the adventures of his family. Although there were stories from Draco and his friends, including the helicopter story, they were told differently. Draco, for instance, had a large dramatic streak. In addition, there was a different attitude in this compartment than in the one he'd shared with Ron: it felt like there was an underlying game where everyone had to prove that they were most cunning. But it also felt all in good fun, and they laughed at themselves and each other when they said something that made them lose cunning points or whatever. Harry had a feeling that they were going easy on him but he couldn't help but feel grateful. He'd never talked successfully with a group of children his own age before.

Harry quickly realised the time. "Sorry, I have to leave, my bags and other stuff is in another compartment. I'll need to take Bear too, Pansy, otherwise, he'll never come back. I'll see you all at the castle."

They wished him goodbye and passed Bear around once more before they allowed him to leave, and even then Draco walked him to his compartment saying something about protecting Harry from the menace of red-heads everywhere. Harry ignored him. Today had been too good of a day to worry about how much his two friends disliked each other.  
  


#  
  


When Harry arrived at his previous compartment, having turned Draco around previously, he found it occupied by a bushy-haired girl, Neville and a miserable-looking Ron.

"Oh, you're Harry Potter. I read all about you in some of my supplementary readings. I've read all of my books already and have them memorised. How's it coming for you? I'm Hermione Granger, by the way, and Neville said that you helped him find Trevor?"

Harry found himself completely overwhelmed. Hermione Granger talked a mile a minute. He couldn't imagine how many times you would have to read to books to memorise them; he certainly hadn't, despite several re-readings. He wondered if they were supposed to have done that, but was pleased to see that Neville and Ron both looked as worried as he did.

"Yes, I'm Harry, and it was really Bear who did the hard work."

Ron was looking even more annoyed at Hermione and mouthed "know-it-all" to Harry after nodding in her direction. Harry had to agree. Clearly, if you stayed under her influence for too long, you risked being overwhelmed by her personality the way Neville had.

Hermione had finished a long and detailed explanation of which spells she had already tried and how they had worked when Harry, looking out the window, caught sight of a lake.  
"I think we're almost there."

At this, Hermione almost started hyperventilating. "Oh, we have to change into our robes quickly. I can't believe that we're almost there!"

She quickly exited the compartment with Neville trailing behind her. As he left, he waved to Harry.

"Nice to meet you, Neville."

"I'm glad I met you too, Harry."

"Am I ever glad that those two left! Why did you leave me here for so long? Did that good-for-nothing slimy snake corrupt you?"

"I was meeting his friends, Ron. They were all nice. What is up with you and Draco? You don't seem very fond of each other."

"His family was one of the first to come back to our side after You-Know-Who disappeared. Said they’d been bewitched. My dad doesn’t believe it. He says Malfoy’s father didn’t need an excuse to go over to the Dark Side. His father is the reason that my father works the job that he does. Lucius Malfoy has his fingers in every pocket, and he hates my dad because he knows that my dad knows his secret, so he prevents him from getting promoted. He's always talking about how we are an embarrassment to the Wizarding world and how we don't dress well enough or act well enough. He thinks he's too good for us. But I'll show him and his son."

Harry had never heard Ron sound so angry before so he didn't say anything. Soon, they had rolled into the station and Harry and Ron were quickly slipping their robes on before they left. The end result was a mess. Harry's hair had especially suffered while Ron's robes fit even less well than they had before.

Harry pulled Hedwig on top of his trunk and then put Bear back in his jacket. He'd let him go once they were settled. 


	5. The House of Salazar Slytherin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The chapter that you've all been waiting for: the arrival at Hogwarts and the sorting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yet another chapter, this time on my birthday. So this new chapter is a birthday present from me to all of you. I got some really amazing reviews last chapter and they always make my day.

Harry and Ron stepped out of the train, following the directive to leave their belongings on the train. On the platform, a large man in a leather coat and with long, tangled black hair and a beard came up to Harry. He shook Harry's hand quite firmly – so firmly that Harry was almost lifted off the ground.

"I'm Hagrid, Groundskeeper and Keeper of the Keys here at Hogwarts. I met yeh when yeh were jus’ a babe, Harry, carried yeh from yer house ter the Dursleys. Yeh were so tiny and yeh fell asleep on the ride over. I was goin’ ter come pick yeh up from the Dursleys, but Professor McGonagall insisted that yeh knew her better. When yeh've gotten settled, come over for a spot o’ tea. I live in the hut on the edge o’ the forest."

Harry nodded, still recovering from his shaking. Still, although the man initially looked quite terrifying, it was clear that he was a teddy bear on the inside.

Bear, noticing Harry's distraction, jumped out of his jacket. Hagrid quickly squatted down so that he was now approximately Harry's size and gave Bear some fish. Bear looked like he thoroughly approved.

"That's one gorgeous creature that yeh've got there, Harry. Kneazles are special creatures, and this one would walk with ye' to the end of the world. Lucky ye are, very lucky. Now, jus’ follow me down ter the boats. As for your kitten, ye'll want to hold him tightly. Kneazles don't like water any more than cats."

"Thanks, Hagrid."

Harry quickly picked up Bear, said his goodbyes to Hedwig, and turned around to find Ron staring at him.

"What?"

"You have the weirdest friends, mate."

Hagrid let them down a steep narrow path. Dark trees obscured their view and it was a little scary. Neville even sniffed one or two times. But at the bottom of the path, they were rewarded by a marvelous view of Hogwarts. It stood, perched on a mountain on one side and on the lake on the other.

"No mor'n four ter a boat!" called Hagrid.

Harry and Ron quickly scrambled into one of the boats and were joined by Neville and Hermione. Harry's heart dropped a little; he'd been hoping to take the ride with Draco.

"Ev’ryone in?" shouted Hagrid. "Right then - FORWARD!"

Harry found that he was able to forget his company as they crossed the lake on their small boats. Ahead and above them stood a stone castle beyond any of Harry's imaginings. Towers poked out of the main body - all different it seemed. In addition, every window of the castle was lit. Next to him, it seemed that all the other children were having the same reaction, even people like Ron who'd heard about Hogwarts their entire life. Slowly, the boat advanced and Harry began to realise that maybe this wasn't a dream after all.

The boats were approaching a cliff face covered in ivy on which the castle towered. Harry was beginning to worry about the approaching cliff when Hagrid shouted, "Heads down!" and the first boats made their way through the ivy curtain into a dark tunnel that continued long enough that Harry thought that they might be arriving directly into the castle. Finally, they reached an underground harbour, the stones slick with moss and algae. Ahead of them lay a large oak wooden door.

Hagrid raised his giant fist and knocked three times.  
  


#  
  


Professor McGonagall stood in the open door. Harry gave a little wave. She was wearing emerald green robes, and although she looked stern, Harry was certain that there was a sparkle in her eye, a widening of the mouth, a twitch of a smile when she saw him wave and caught Bear poking out from his collar.

"I've brought yeh the firs' years, Professor McGonagall."

"Thank you, Hagrid. I will take it from here."

She pulled the double doors open fully, giving them their first view of the Entrance Hall. It was huge, all in stone. In fact, the whole of the Dursleys' house, even the yard, could have easily fit in the Entrance Hall.

Gargoyles lingered in the corners and torches stood near what seemed to be an endlessly tall ceiling. The centre of the hall was a marble staircase which faced them.

From a doorway to the right, hundreds of voices came, Harry imagined that that way lead to the Great Hall. Professor McGonagall led them across the flagstone to an empty room to side of the Great Hall.

All the first years crowded together, more crowded even than the room demanded as though they were all cold or, more likely, because they were all nervous.

Professor McGonagall gave her speech, explaining what the house system accomplished, what the houses were and how the house system worked.

"The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest that you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting. I shall return when we are ready for you," said McGonagall. "Please wait quietly."

This last directive caused a flurry of movement. With a sad sigh Harry released Bear, instructing him to behave and to find Harry after the feast. When he looked back up Neville's cloak was fastened under his ear and Ron had a smudge of dirt on his nose, though Draco looked perfectly pressed already. However, he slipped over to Harry's side and began muttering about, "Not knowing how to dress, this hair, those Muggles..."

In a matter of seconds, he had managed to crisp up all of Harry's clothing, get most of the Kneazle hair off and done whatever he had done to Harry's hair on the train once more.

Harry couldn’t see the point. "I wish I knew how they sorted us into our houses."

Ron looked nervous as well. "Some sort of test, I think. Fred said that it hurts a lot, but I think he was joking."

Harry hoped that it wasn't some kind of magical test. Despite the books that he'd read, he hadn't tried to do any magic, remembering what Professor McGonagall had told him about using magic in the Muggle world. Everyone else looked just as nervous and appeared to be equally silent except for Hermione Granger, who was muttering all the spells which she had learnt under her breath, making sure that she knew them in case she needed one of them.  
Suddenly, Harry felt a tight hand grasping his own and looked down to see Draco's fingers.   
"We'll stick together right, Draco?"

"Together, together in Slytherin, Harry. My father said that all the best people go there, and I know that you're one of them. So, we'll be there together. It doesn't matter what kind of test is out there."

Harry almost laughed at that, but in a way it was reassuring. Draco wanted to be his friend and thought that Harry was one of "all the best people." Harry’s stomach twisted up as he wondered what would happen if he was sorted into Hufflepuff. Would Draco pick on him like Dudley had? Neither Draco, Ron, Neville or even Hermione wanted to go into Hufflepuff. He tore his eyes away from the door where he was certain McGonagall would come in any second to turn to face Draco. He smiled and said, "Thanks," and was relieved when Draco smiled winningly back. Draco didn’t think he was a Hufflepuff. He thought he was one of the right kind of people.

Suddenly, twenty ghosts streamed in, right through the walls. They were pearly-white and almost transparent and seemed to be ignoring the first-years in favour of talking to each other. Their primary topic of discussion seemed to be disciplining one of their members. Although Harry had jumped almost a foot when they had come in, such a discussion, which sounded so similar to the gossiping Aunt Petunia always participated in, made him chuckle a little.

"Move along now," McGonagall's sharp voice said although Harry was uncertain whether that was directed at the first years or at the ghosts. "The Sorting Ceremony's about to start."

The ghosts left while the students began clustering towards McGonagall.

"Now, form a line and follow me please."

Harry walked in line with Draco in front of him and Ron behind him into the Great Hall.  
  


#  
  


The Great Hall was unlike anything that Harry had ever seen. Hogwarts: A History had described the ceiling as well as the architecture, but to walk into the largest room that Harry had ever seen with its velvet black sky and shimmering pinpricks of stars was incredible. Thousands of candles floated above five large wooden tables: four on the ground and one on an elevated platform. Students sat at the four lower tables while the teachers, including Hagrid and Snape, sat on the raised table. Goblets and golden plates covered the tables although they were empty and students sat along the entire length.

All of the students seemed to be looking at them, and Harry found himself wishing that he was holding Draco's hand again. Since that was impossible, he focused on the ceiling once more. Although he knew that it was enchanted, it was so realistic that it was hard to believe that the Great Hall wasn't simply open to the night sky.

McGonagall brought a stool to the front of the Great Hall, in full view of all the students and placed a worn, pointed hat on it. Worn was more than a little generous since it sported tears and holes and patches. Harry was very unsure of what it was for and why on earth people were staring at it so. It was very tattered and very ugly. Harry was certain that Aunt Petunia would never have let such a thing in her house. He just couldn’t understand why everyone was giving such a respectful stare to the thing - even Draco to whom cleanliness and correct dress seemed very important. Despite all of this confusion, however, Harry decided to start staring at the hat too.

Suddenly, one of the rips near the brim of the hat began moving and a song spilled from it. It was quite a strange song, all about the houses, but Harry felt no closer to knowing where he belonged than he had before. But what was truly strange and a little frightening was that it sounded as though the hat could see inside your head. This was even worse than Harry had thought. At least if it had been some kind of magical feat, he could have reassured himself when he failed that it was lack of experience and hopefully Draco and Ron and Neville would have been willing to write to him about Hogwarts when he was forced back to the Dursleys.

But now, when the Hat told everyone that he was unsuited for any of the houses, it would be because he truly was unfit for all of them. Maybe Hufflepuff would be okay after all even if it was just like elementary school had been.

Ron in contrast seemed rather pleased about it all, going on about killing Fred the next time he saw him.

Professor McGonagall stepped forwards. She was carrying a large roll of parchment in her hands. She unrolled it and said, "When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted," and then read out, "Abbott, Hannah!"

A girl with blonde pigtails rushed up to the stool, put on the hat and was promptly sorted into Hufflepuff, whose table let out a large cheer.

On it continued, and Harry grew ever more nervous. Hermione Granger was sorted into Gryffindor after a few moments to her delight and to Ron's sorrow.

Neville almost fell over on his way to the stool. He took even longer to be sorted than Hermione, but he also forgot that he still had the hat on his head so great was his happiness at being sorted into Gryffindor. He jogged back to give the Hat to McGonagall.

Draco was called soon after and did give Harry's fingers a brief squeeze and a warm imperative "Slytherin" before he calmly and delicately walked up to the Hat and placed it on his head. Almost immediately, he got his wish and was sorted into Slytherin. He walked over to his table, shaking his housemates' hands, before sitting down and turning to face Harry, to whom he gave a winning, pleased smile. Crabbe and Goyle had sorted into Slytherin and Harry desperately hoped that he would be placed with them or with Neville in Gryffindor.

Finally, it was his turn. When McGonagall shouted his name, whispering broke out through the entire length of the hall. Harry held on to Bear, still in his robes, and walked up to the stool, heart pounding. He felt like vomiting, he was so nervous. He sat on the stool and dropped the hat down. The inside of the hat was black. There was silence.

Hmm, said a small voice in his ear. _Difficult, very difficult. Plenty of courage, I see. Not a bad mind either. There's talent, oh my goodness, yes - and a nice thirst to prove yourself, now that's interesting… And nervous about making friends, I see. So, where shall I put you?_

Harry gripped the edges of his stool tightly and thought, "Not Hufflepuff, not Hufflepuff."

_And yet you say that out of a desire to stay with your friends... Well, if you’re certain, I'll have to say–_ and then the voice shouted, "Slytherin!"

There was silence from the entire hall, except for at the Slytherin table where students were calmly clapping as though they had known that he would be sorted there all along.  Draco was looking particularly pleased, although Harry also caught sight of the others whom he had met on the train. All had small smirks trained on him. Harry gulped. Maybe they’d decided that they didn't like him after all.

Draco, who had clearly been saving a seat for him, signalled him over. It seemed that all of the students at the table wanted to shake his hand and introduce themselves. Harry forgot most of their names the moment the words left their mouth.

Harry turned away from the table to watch as Ron was sorted. He gave him what he hoped was an encouraging grin, but found to his disappointment that Ron seemed determined not to look at him in addition to being very nervous. Harry had known that Ron disliked Slytherins, but aside from Draco, it had seemed to be the sort of generalized dislike that Harry had hoped would fade when he realized that Harry was in the house. He clapped enthusiastically when Ron was sorted into Gryffindor, pleased to see the delight and relief on Ron's face. Ron still didn't turn to look at him even though his clapping stood out from the rest of the table's: his alone was enthusiastic as opposed to polite.

Harry turned away from the hall in time to see Blaise joining Slytherin. With the Sorting finished Harry turned his gaze towards the Head Table. McGonagall and Snape both gave nods at him, and Harry felt his heart lift. He would win Ron back - he was certain - and he thought that Neville wouldn't care too much that he'd been sorted into Slytherin either.

Harry noticed that Quirrell appeared to have gained a large purple turban since Harry had seen him at Diagon Alley. The man at the centre of the table could only have been Albus Dumbledore because he so resembled his Chocolate Frog card. He stood up out of his golden chair and spread his arms wide. "Welcome!" he said. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts. Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you!"

Harry turned to look at Draco, who had been trying to get his attention for the last while, and his empty golden plate. Harry was shocked to see that although his plate had indeed been empty, much to his disappointment, the entire table was now covered in food, more food than Harry had ever seen and all his favourite things. He had never been allowed to eat without restriction before, and it was strangely freeing.

He quickly piled some of everything on his plate: roast beef, roast chicken, pork chops, lamb chops, sausages, bacon and steak, boiled potatoes, roast potatoes, chips, Yorkshire pudding, peas, carrots, gravy and ketchup. The only things that he avoided were the mint humbugs. He didn't understand what they were here for anyways.

Having filled his plate, he was finally able to turn his attention towards Draco, who was looking both shocked at the quantity of food on his plate and annoyed at Harry for ignoring him for so long.

"How are you planning on eating all of that, Harry? I thought you said that you'd bought food from the trolley."

"I did, Draco. I wasn't lying about that, but I'm hungry again now and I've never seen so much good food before in my life. Are we going to eat like this every night?" At that thought, Harry heard his stomach rumble and began eating his food.

Bear had also been drawn out by the food and was winding around Harry's legs begging for some despite Harry's instructions before they'd entered the Great Hall. He was looking like he was planning to jump into Harry's lap when Harry relented and fed him some chicken and fish.

In the meantime, Draco responded with a smirk, "You eat this much food regularly? We may have to notify the kitchens that they're going to have to double the food at the Slytherin table."

Harry’s heart gave a double beat before he forced out a grin. "I quite like that idea actually."

It seemed that their discussion had called up quite an audience as this last comment brought a plethora of giggles from several of the nearby girls, except Pansy, who just looked disgusted.

Harry feeding Bear at the table from under the table seemed to draw a mixed response from his House. On one hand, having a cat at the table, especially one whom you were feeding, was clearly bad manners, but, at the same time, several of his new housemates appeared to be experiencing a desire to touch, pet or coo at Bear from what Harry could determine. Unlike before, Pansy looked much more indecisive about her current mood. It seemed that, like in the compartment, her affection for cats, or Kneazles, as Harry supposed they properly were called, was winning the battle against cool disapproval.

"Would you like me to pass Bear over, Pansy? He'll allow a little petting from you, especially as you've already been introduced."

Their observers' eyebrows rose. Pansy smirked, but it was on the smile side of smirks, so Harry considered it a victory. "Well, I suppose someone has to look after Bear and make sure that you don't get caught on your first day. Honestly, you lack all subtlety. How on earth did you get sorted into our house? Without our guidance, you'll be eaten to pieces!"

Harry, who was used to no compliments, found that Pansy's backhanded compliments were actually quite nice. She was rather like Draco, in fact: prickly and dramatic, but with a streak of fondness for him, if their efforts to make him into a respectable Slytherin were anything to go by.

"Thanks, Pansy, he's taking my attention away from this food."

Pansy snorted but continued petting Bear. "How you keep that figure if you eat that way all the time, I just don't know."

Harry wasn't quite certain how to reply to that comment. He was sure that any discussion of limited food access was unwise in the present company.

"Some of us, Pansy, like Harry here, clearly have fast metabolisms, which allow them the extravagance of such food,” Draco said carefully.

“I’m not eating that much," Harry said. He wasn’t certainly when compared to Vincent and Greg although their figures did not look much like his. “I’m a growing boy after all.”

“That’s true I suppose,” said Pansy, although she still looked a little jealous.

“What sort of life did you lead with those awful Muggles, Harry? You said they taught you nothing about magic? Well I suppose that they will unable to. Imagine growing up without magic.”  Draco didn’t appear to expecting a response as he continued, “You must be horribly behind on all our customs and traditions. Who knows what kinds of manners they have in the Muggle world.” The whole table shivered at that. At Harry's moue of hurt, Draco added, "You’ve been perfectly polite, Harry. It’s just clear that you don’t know our ways,” Draco turned to address the table, “But as Harry lacks that education, we'll just have to teach him."   
The last phrase was said with a sharpness and a determination that made Harry think that perhaps all of Slytherin were going to attempt to teach him these "manners." But it wasn't that he had none - just that they clearly weren't up to Pureblood standards, and Draco and his crew had chosen him as their project.

"Now, Harry, I don't believe you've met some of our other year-mates. There's Daphne Greengrass, Millicent Bulstrode and Tracey Davis in addition to Blaise, Theo, Greg, Vincent and, of course, Pansy."

Daphne Greengrass was a slim girl with brown hair, in direct contrast to Millicent Bulstrode, who was almost double Daphne's width, stocky and muscular. She looked like she could probably bench press Harry and Draco combined. Tracey was in between them, taller than Daphne but not as tall or as wide as Millicent. She alone had blonde hair.

"Millicent Bulstrode, pleased to meet you. I see that you snuck your Kneazle into the Great Hall, undoubtedly with the help of Hagrid. I have a cat that I brought with me. I hope she'll get along with yours. It would be a shame for them to spend all their time yowling at each other in the dungeon."

"I'm pleased to meet you as well. Harry Potter. So, Slytherin House is in the dungeons? I heard that you can see the lake from the windows."

It was one of the upper years. Harry was surprised. He could imagine one of them deciding to speak to Draco, he had a well-connected father and seemed to know most of the students, but he was just Draco's friend. He had forgotten that he was the Boy Who Lived to these people - that he had to measure up to those standards. The Hat and Professor Snape had said that they valued traditionalism, cunning, self-preservation and intelligence, and so far he had been silly and too quickly casual with so many of his year mates. He had forgotten what it had been like when he'd first stepped into the compartment, the game which was always playing in the background. With Pansy and Draco, he could be more relaxed, but he had to always appear in control and sure of himself or he would be eaten alive by the others. Pansy and Draco had been sending him warnings all night and although they were clearly pleased that he was enthusiastic, this was his time to demonstrate that he could fit in with these people even though he was not a pureblood.

"Adrian Pucey, you must be Harry Potter. Interesting. The dungeons do face the lake. Really, no other students see what we see."

"Nice meeting you and thank you for describing our house for me, even though I know that I'll have the opportunity to see it for myself soon. I am simply so pleased to have been sorted into this house that I have been– over eager."

"It's quite common with new students. They are overwhelmed by the responsibilities of our house. I wouldn't worry though. Professor Snape will explain the policies and customs of Slytherin House after dinner."

When Harry turned back, he noticed that his year mates were looking at him with consideration. "Well, Harry, I think things will work out after all," said Pansy as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "Good choice, Draco," she added before passing over a Sickle.

"What was the bet?"

"Oh, Pansy here bet that you wouldn't be sorted into Slytherin. I disagreed."

"Yes, Draco, no need to gloat." This was from Daphne Greengrass.

Harry felt a small shock of hurt at that. He'd thought that Pansy had liked him before, but it looked as if he'd only impressed her now.

While they were talking, dessert had come and the students, along with Harry, switched their attention once more to their food while polite conversation continued. Suddenly, as Harry looked over to Snape and Quirrell, who was sitting next to him, he felt a pain on his head. He grasped at his scar where the pain appeared to be coming from.

"Harry, why are you clutching your forehead?"

"Just a bit of a headache, I think. Just stress."

Draco looked unconvinced, but thankfully when Harry looked at the others, they had either not noticed their conversation or accepted his excuse. He could tell Draco later. It was probably just a headache in anyways as he'd already said.

Their plates emptied one last time, and the Headmaster rose once more. "Ahem - just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. I have a few start of term notices to give you.

"First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well.”

The headmaster turned to look at the Gryffindor table. "The Weasley twins," whispered Adrian Pucey.

"I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors.

"Quidditch trials will be held the second week of term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madame Hooch.

"And finally, I must tell you that this year the third floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death."

Harry would have laughed if the rest of the table had not looked so annoyed at that statement.

"Is he serious?" he whispered to Draco.

"I suppose so."

"And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!" cried Dumbledore. All of the teachers' faces blanched, as did the surrounding students. Snape looked particularly annoyed.

The headmaster flicked his wand and a golden ribbon formed the words. After a directive to use their favourite tune, something which led to a song even worse than the lyrics had been, the Great Hall broke out into music from most of the occupants. The whole of the Slytherin table muttered the words under their breaths. Everyone finished the song at their own time for obvious reasons, and the Weasley twins finished last, having used a funeral march tune.

"Ah, music," Dumbledore said, wiping his eyes. "A magic beyond all we do here! And now, bedtime. Off you trot!"

Harry sighed with relief. He was quite tired by now. He followed Draco outside the Great Hall, paying little attention to the others around him, although he did glance up, hoping to catch Ron or Neville's eye. He saw Neville, who gave him a wave, but Ron's face went red at that and he quickly turned away. Neville looked apologetic.

"What are you looking at?" asked Draco.

"Oh, I was hoping to congratulate Ron and Neville. Neville looked really pleased, but Ron wouldn't even look at me."

Draco’s lips pursed and he said carefully, "Well, you're much too good for that blood-traitor. He clearly doesn't appreciate all that he is missing, not that he would, having grown up in such squalor. As for Longbottom... Well... I suppose he has a good enough family, even if he is a Gryffindor and a useless one at that."

"Draco, thanks for trying to make me feel better." He didn't add that he didn't care about whether they were in Gryffindor or how good their families were. He felt like he should have felt outraged and defended them, especially since Neville had been nice to him, but he didn't want to make Draco angry. He'd have no friends if Draco hated him. Besides, he wasn't sure how to be angry at Draco for grudgingly approving of Neville. He sighed. He was much too tired to be thinking about any of this.  
  


#  
  


The group followed one of the Slytherin prefects down several flights of twisting staircases, through narrow passages and a high ceilinged hall. They walked down and up and then down some more until they reached a stretch of wall somewhere underground.

" _Met'agona stephanos_ ," called out the prefect and a door in the wall opened.

"What does it mean?" Harry asked Draco.

"'After the conquest, the crown.' It's in Ancient Greek. Snape makes them. Apparently, some of them are potions related, but others are just, well..."

"You know Ancient Greek?"

"Yes, I was taught Latin, Greek, French and German as part of my education, as well as all the standard subjects. There are a number of spells outside those in Latin as well as works of literature and of course it’s important for establishing relationships with wizards outside fo Britain."

"Wow."

They had just entered into a large room. Windows opened onto a green lake. Balls of light hung from the ceiling, illuminating a room filled with low-backed green and black leather sofas, a light maple floor, and ebony and other dark wood cabinets. The large fire crackling in a green swirled marble fireplace and silver decorations brightened the room. The floor was covered in Persian carpets and dark, wooden staircases up to several doorways. Professor Snape stood in front of them, looking at them sharply as though he was evaluating each one.  
"Welcome, members of the Slytherin House, new and old. Congratulations on becoming a part of our old and noble house. I am certain that you are all tired, but before you go, I have some directives.

"Students of Slytherin House should resolve conflicts between house members in this common room and not air out their dirty laundry in front of the school. It is beneath you all as members of Slytherin House.” He eyed them all coldly, and Harry wondered idly what sort of punishment he’d mete out if they didn’t follow his directives. Another look at the stern looking man made him realise that he really didn’t want to find out. “Passwords will be posted on the notice board as well as other announcements.

"We have won the Quidditch Cup and the House Cup for the past several years. Do not make this year the year where we lose them. All second years and up who are interested in playing on the Quidditch team, please speak with Mr. Flint.

"In addition, I will arrange interviews with all of you over the next several weeks, beginning with the first-years. These meeting will occur again at the beginning of second term and are mandatory. You are permitted to visit me should you have any questions or concerns during the rest of the year. Do not waste my time with any foolishness that could be resolved amongst  yourselves. My hours, as well as a map of the school, are posted on the notice boards. Now, off to bed with you. Your first day of classes is tomorrow."

Harry, Draco and the rest of the first year boys were led up one staircase into a dormitory with large, four-poster beds covered in green curtains. Some of the other boys looked a little wide-eyed. He supposed that Snape had been rather stern. As Hagrid had promised, their trunks and animals had been brought up. Harry let Bear out of his jacket, gave Hedwig one pet and quickly changed before crashing into bed. He had never been so tired.

He had strange dreams that night: Professor Quirrell's turban was strangling him and there was a green light. Draco, Ron and Neville looked at him from the corner, telling him how they hated him and Snape and McGonagall said, "I'm most disappointed with you," at the same time. When he woke up, he remembered nothing but felt strangely nauseous.


	6. The Potions Master

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry's first day of classes at Hogwarts and his meeting with Professor Snape.

Harry awoke to Draco shaking his shoulder. It was difficult to tell time here: there were no windows to the outside and no clocks that Harry could see.

"What time is it, Draco?"

"Oh, about seven."

"Seven! In the morning?!" Harry's voice almost cracked. Certainly, on occasion the Dursleys had woken him this early but most of the time it had been around 7:30 at the earliest. Now that he was at Hogwarts, he'd been planning on sleeping in, especially since classes started at nine.

Draco sighed. "You have to get up, shower, brush your teeth, style your hair, dress and arrive in time for breakfast. It is important not to be forced to eat breakfast too quickly because it will give you poor digestion and reflect poorly on you and the rest of Slytherin House. Besides, we have to check the noticeboard and get our schedules today."

Harry gaped. He'd never done many of those things in the morning. He'd been allowed to shower occasionally and dressed of course but dressing had never been a process. "Draco, we wear a uniform; how long can it take to get dressed?"

"While we may not be choosing our clothing, allowing enough time to dress means that you will dress properly: buttons done up, shirt tucked in, tie correctly tied, robes and blazer properly aligned. Dressing well is important, Harry. It is an indicator of power. Hogwarts is where we make our first steps into the world, and we must put our best foot forward."  
Harry was certain that he was looking as confused and as shocked as he felt. He had known that Draco presented himself well, but he hadn't known that becoming his friend would mean all of this. He supposed that Draco's words about teaching him how to be a proper wizard hadn't been a joke.

“Draco, I’m not sure that I need all of that. We’re only eleven, and we’re at school, not about to go to a wedding.”

"You certainly do. You're wasting time. Go shower; remember to use shampoo, conditioner and body wash. Afterwards, brush your teeth and dry off. I'll see what I can do about your hair, and in the meantime, I'll lay out your clothes."

Harry sighed, much heavier this time. "Draco, I don't have any of those things, and I know how to take care of myself."

Draco's snort expressed his doubt at this. "Well, you'll have to use some of mine. Now, they've been especially formulated for fine, blond hair so there's no telling how your hair will come out, but we'll order you some products this evening. For today, this will have to do. And while you can hold yourself well enough, you must cultivate grace. Grace begins with an elegant exterior."

Harry would have kept arguing but he was tired and a shower didn't sound all that bad really. Besides, he doubted anything could make his hair look messier than it already was.

Draco's products were where he said they would be and did smell quite nice, although he had never used conditioner or body wash before and had to ask Draco how the shampoo worked, which had sparked a diatribe - which Harry had ignored, mostly - on Muggles and Harry's hair and conditioner. Harry didn't think he could have followed it even if he was paying attention. By the time he got out of the shower, he was feeling more awake and was pleased to brush his teeth to get rid of his morning breath.

He dried off but didn't touch his hair. "I'm done, Draco."

Draco walked in, looking at his hair with a gleam in his eye. "Well, dry it off - not too rough, that will make it dry up - now you're barely touching it, honestly – well, I suppose that that'll have to do."

Harry was looking disapprovingly at Draco, but he didn’t seem to notice or maybe he just didn’t care.  

"Now, Harry, I'll style your hair and then I want you to moisturize. Moisturizing is extremely important; it helps to protect your skin."

Draco styling his hair turned out to be a complicated procedure involving several products including something called Sleakeasy Hair Potion. Harry was relieved that he didn't attempt to gel it back as his was. He wasn't sure how to tell Draco that his hair had never behaved, not for himself and never for Aunt Petunia.

"Now, Harry, your hair is coarse, but it's all over the place because it's got a bit of curl to it and it's so long. All that it needs is a bit of encouragement and a part."

Harry didn't think that this qualified as a "bit" of encouragement and also decided not to mention that it was so long because it had always grown back when Aunt Petunia had tried to cut it. He was surprised that when Draco finished his hair did look better than usual. It didn't appear to be reverting to its usual chaos and had been parted on the side, revealing his scar.

Harry sighed. "Please part it the other way. This doesn't need to be shown off."

Draco pouted but complied, clearly realizing that there was only so much that Harry would tolerate and that he was rapidly reaching that limit. The final result was not significantly different than how it had looked before but, for some reason, it looked more organized, more deliberate and most of hair was pulled away from his face with the power of gel, except for a few curling locks which nicely covered his scar. He certainly looked more grown-up than before.

"Well, that went better than I thought it would. It normally doesn't listen so well. But my hair's not totally different, just... better," Harry said begrudgingly. He was more than a little exhausted by the whirlwind known as Draco.

Draco was beaming and left Harry so that he could apply his moisturizer. By now, Harry had realized that he should just go with the flow and allowed Draco to adjust his clothing and tie his tie until Draco was certain that he was presentable. He noticed that while Draco had been working on his hair, their other roommates had left for breakfast. It was currently 7:45 and Draco was clearly worried about the time.

Harry managed a quick hi to Bear, who had slept in his bed that night for the first time ever. It had been comforting to have a small warm body next to his own. Now, though, the Kneazle was ready to explore the castle and happily trotted after Harry and Draco.

They stopped by the noticeboard and studied it for a moment. Harry looked at it very closely, trying to memorize it, but left feeling like it was a rather hopeless task. As Snape had promised, the meetings were posted on the board. Harry was surprised to see that he had one of the earlier slots at three thirty the next day. Draco had a meeting at four thirty on Thursday in the evening. When he asked Draco about it, Draco suggested that since Harry was a newcomer to the world of magic Professor Snape probably wanted to check in on him earlier as he would have more to adjust to than Draco, for instance, would. Harry supposed that he was right and together they began walking towards the Great Hall.  
  


#  
  


The Great Hall wasn't especially full to Harry's relief, although it was true that the Slytherin table was more filled than the others. Harry imagined that some had stayed up late and talked after being led to bed. Since it was the first day, many students had also probably chosen, as he had planned to, to cut breakfast short today.

Still, as they sat down, Harry found that the table was just as full as it had been the night before, but now it was with breakfast foods. Pastries, kippers, fried potatoes, sausages; roasted tomatoes, black pudding; cereals, hot and cold; bacon, fried mushrooms, baked beans, eggs of all varieties. Harry saw coffee, tea, juices and more jams than he could count on the table and many varieties of fruits. There were even sauces on the table in neat porcelain cups. There were foods and pastries he'd never seen or heard of and pancakes, breads and waffles. It was all a bit much to take in, and Harry found himself eagerly waiting for his next breakfast so that he could try it all.

He noticed that Draco took only some yoghurt, fruit and tea at first but was relieved when on his second helping, he ate some hot cereal as well some fried mushrooms, tomatoes, eggs, bacon and potatoes. Harry wasn’t sure he could take much more teasing about his eating habits which were only magnified when he sat next to Draco.

Harry was eating in rounds: first fruit and cereal, then some pastries and finally most of a full English. He was quite full by the end of it. It had been a long time since he had been full two meals in a row and he enjoyed the sensation.

While he had been eating, the owls had arrived. Hedwig had stopped by their table although she'd had no post for him, and Harry had fed her some of his bacon before she flew off with the rest of the owls. The arrival of the owls had been quite a spectacle, one which Harry had not at all been expecting. It had been quite beautiful really, all the owls soaring through the Great Hall whose ceiling was a bright blue sky dotted with only a few puffy clouds.  
Draco had looked pleased that Harry was so impressed but had been even more pleased when he had received a letter and some sweets from his parents. His owl was a large eagle owl with sharp eyes and a majestic stance that had carried the large package as though it had contained only air. Harry hadn't asked for any sweets, but Draco had given him one single chocolate, of Belgian origin according to Draco, which Harry had carefully and slowly eaten. He didn't think that he'd ever had anything so good and when he'd told Draco, the  blond had smiled with pride.

Draco seemed even more pleased by the letter, or letters as it had turned out, one from each of parents. Although he knew that Draco couldn't help it, it had been hard seeing all the other first years around him receiving letters from their parents, congratulating them on their Sorting.

Contrary to what Draco had said, there wasn't much talk over breakfast between the first years, even though the upper years were swapping summer stories. The arrival of the schedules caused a flurry of excitement among all.

Harry was unhappy to see that they appeared to share only Potions with the Gryffindors, as he had been hoping to spend some time with Neville and Ron. Draco and the rest of Slytherin seemed more upset about something else however.

"History of Magic first period Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday! It's supposed to be a very boring class, even Father admitted to it. But a Malfoy must excel in all subjects and all knowledge is worth having. Still, I don't suppose that it could have been some other time or perhaps a bit spread out."

"At least after Wednesday morning we'll be done with it."

"Hm, I suppose, Harry. At least the only class that we share with the Gryffindors is Potions and Professor Snape will keep them in line. Regrettably, this means that we'll be sharing most of our classes with Hufflepuff, which will mean the dullest of classes. Still, I suppose we'll shine in comparison."

Draco, it seemed, was quite content to carry on a conversation by himself so long as Harry murmured or nodded once in awhile and occasionally made a statement. Harry found himself worrying once more about whether he would be terribly behind the other students. It seemed that he was already behind as far as proper dress and behaviour was concerned, and he couldn't imagine how much more behind that would mean that he was in the classes. The excellent breakfast did do much to help alleviate these concerns, however, and by the time quarter to nine was approaching, he was pleasantly full and almost excited to begin classes.

Draco pushed him to leave once quarter to nine hit: he wanted to make an excellent impression on the first day, and apparently Malfoys were never late. Harry had been quite worried about finding his way to any of their classes, but Draco had managed to persuade an upper year to escort them to the classroom so they were among the first to arrive.

The room was dark and dusty, with worn desks and chairs all facing a large desk and board at the front of the class. Draco brought them to seats a little out of the way, far away from the front row. These were apparently choicest seats, but it wasn't until the lecture began that Harry understood why.

The professor's name was Binns and he was the only ghost to teach at Hogwarts. Blaise told him later that when he was alive, he had taught History of Magic at Hogwarts, just as dully as he did now and that one day while sitting in front of the fire in the staff room, he had gone to sleep. When he had awoken, he had gone to class, leaving his body behind in the arm chair.

It was certainly true that Binns was very dull and during the entire lecture he talked only of goblin revolutions, of which their seemed an innumerable sum. Although Harry would have thought that goblin revolutions would be interesting and exciting, Binns managed to reduce them to endless names and dates, and by the end of it, many of the students were napping. Draco took notes the entire time and Harry tried to as well even though the lecture was so boring that he found it very difficult to concentrate. Luckily, their chosen desks were out of Binns's path as he would often walk through students as he lectured, causing them to flinch and shiver.

History of Magic was followed by a break which was largely spent walking to their Defense Against the Dark Arts Class. Prior to arriving at Hogwarts, Harry had been looking forward to this class as it sounded the most exciting considering it involved curses and counter-curses and hexes. Professor Quirrell's classroom, however, was covered in garlic and he himself emitted quite a strange odour. He had apparently encountered a vampire in Romania and spent most of their first class talking about vampires. Harry was disappointed when he realized at lunch that he had yet to draw his wand.

The day did not improve much after lunch, although both lunch and tea were as good as breakfast and dinner the night before had been. Herbology involved mostly being shown different plants, some of which were very dangerous, others which were harmless and some which looked harmless but were poisonous. Professor Sprout even showed them a plant which sang. She explained, however, that before they'd be handling any plants, they'd have to know the basics first which had meant learning about different soil types and different light, which Harry knew from his work in Aunt Petunia's garden and how different plants had different magical auras which affected nearby plants, which Harry did not.

Their final class was Transfiguration, which Harry had been looking forward to. Professor McGonagall was as stern as she had been the day before but she also turned her desk into a bird. Still, she was fair and she did have them take out their wands. They were supposed to transform a matchstick into a needle, but by the end of the class only Draco's needle was at all metallic feeling even though they shared that class with Ravenclaw. She gave him five points for that, which gave Draco a large grin for the rest of the afternoon.

Harry found himself disappointed by the end of the day. He had used no magic at all it seemed, and after Transfiguration was quite worried about how good at magic he'd be since Hogwarts was quite a magical place. It had staircases which moved and portraits which talked and liked to visit each other. Pansy told him as they walked from tea to Transfiguration that Gryffindor and Hufflepuff had a portrait guarding their entrance way, which was silly because everyone knew that you could fool a portrait. The portraits were also terrible gossips it seemed, and their chatter and stares joined the rest of the school who kept muttering about "Harry Potter" and "scar" and doubling back or stopping when they caught sight of him. Ravenclaw it seemed had some sort of eagle which asked questions, which was almost worse since anyone smart enough could get in.

Thankfully, most of the Slytherins seemed immune and their meals were primarily spent in discussion of their classes, something Harry did not have much to contribute to.

Bear followed him for most of the day, except to Transfiguration. The girls  still seemed very taken with him, and Bear was clearly enjoying the unending affection, although he did run to Harry a few times when they became too enthusiastic. Harry caught even Draco slipping his some pets when he thought no one was looking.

Draco spent most of the day making comments about their classes to Harry and the other first years that walked with them. Harry spent most of his time marvelling at the castle. As they sat down for dinner, which was terrific, Harry decided that it hadn't been too bad for a first day. Unfortunately, McGonagall had assigned them homework, but it was simply a reflection on their first class and on their first attempt at Transfiguration. After supper, Harry worked on it with Draco in the common room.

Other members of Slytherin were there as well and Harry found himself thinking that it really hadn't been such a bad first day after all. The worst of it had been the staring and the whispers, but the Slytherins spoke little to him about it past their first introduction. Pansy and Blaise had been quite pleased to note Harry's wardrobe at breakfast, something which Draco had been happy to take credit for. Aside from Pansy, Blaise and Draco, most of the other Slytherins seemed content to ignore him, talking mostly with Draco. Even the other girls, who had easily ceded to Pansy, seemed inclined to pay little attention to him unless he was carrying Bear.

Draco made up for it, however, and Harry found that he was alone for almost none of the day. When they had finished with their assignment, which wasn't even due until Wednesday, Draco brought out a catalogue and began assessing the different hair and body products for Harry. Harry spoke little however, only nodding occasionally or offering a word. Only Millicent was less involved. It quickly became clear that Draco had already devised a daily routine for him and only wanted to confirm some of his selections with Blaise and Pansy. The order went off with Hedwig at the end of the discussion, and Harry found himself a little overwhelmed. He had already discovered that it was best to let Draco do what he wanted, as disagreeing led to pouts and sulking or a lecture.

As it was, Harry was relieved when the other first years turned their attention on games like Exploding Snap, Gobstones and Wizard’s chess. Harry watched the other students play as he didn't know the rules. He couldn't wait to try, though, as Exploding Snap looked especially fun. He discovered that Wizard’s chess was especially vicious, although he had only before seen chess played on the telly.

Draco spent the night lining up challengers and gleefully smashing them to pieces.

Harry thought he’d never had so much fun in a night even if he sometimes flinched at the violence of it.  
  


#  
  


This pattern continued over the next few days. In their first Charms class, Professor Flitwick paused when he said Harry's name and became so flustered that he fell from his perch at the lectern. They spent their first class learning how to levitate a feather.

Astronomy took place at midnight on Tuesdays and involved a great deal of yawning. Draco knew a great deal about astronomy as it happened. Apparently, his mother and her family were very concerned about the cosmos. Draco was named after a constellation which curled around the North Star which, Draco said, was circumpolar, that is that it was always present no matter the seasons. Harry had laughed a little at that.

Before Astronomy that evening, Harry had his meeting with Professor Snape. He was at afternoon tea with the rest of Slytherin House and he and Draco were listening intently to several of the upper years discussing the upcoming Quidditch try-outs.  All of the talk of Seekers and Chasers and Beaters was thrilling to Harry and Draco looked increasingly engaged.

"Which position do you like best, Draco?" asked Harry.

"Well, I have a fondness for the Seeker position. It really is the most important of the bunch, but I suppose that the Chasers are the backbone of the team."

"I can't wait for Flying Lessons. I wish we didn't have to wait until October for them to start."

"It's not as though they'll allow us to fly to any decent height though. It'll just be the basics: lift-off, hovering, a bit of steering and then landing."

"Yeah, but I heard one of the upper years say that once we've finished with Flying Lessons, we can take out some school brooms."

Draco's grunt said what he thought of the school brooms.

Suddenly, Harry looked at the time and realized that it was 3:15. He had his meeting with Professor Snape in only fifteen minutes, and Draco had said that he should be there at least ten minutes early, part of his efforts to improve Harry, no doubt.

"I have to go Draco, I'm about to be late for my appointment with Professor Snape."  
He got up, quickly grabbing his school bag and walking at a brisk pace towards the dungeons. He and Draco had gone to look for Professor Snape's door that morning so at least he knew where it was. Unfortunately, his office was quite far away, and Harry was wondering whether he would even make it on time for the meeting, much less early.

Once he was out of sight of the Great Hall, he broke out in a brisk run, moving through the halls down into the dungeons, even though Draco had informed him that such a thing was not appropriate conduct. In fact, Harry knew that Ron and Neville had already been given a detention from Snape from running to class on the first day. Unfortunately, Harry had yet to speak to either of them, so busy had he been thus far. Harry knew that the run was a necessity though if he wanted to make it on time.

As he ran, he reflected that perhaps Dudley had been good for something since he would never have learnt to run if it hadn't been for him. Harry didn't have a watch with him so as he skidded to a halt in front of Professor Snape's door he could only hope that Professor Snape wouldn't guess that he had run and that he would be early or at least on time.

"Come in, Mr. Potter."

Harry gulped. It looked like he was both late and had been caught running. He took a few deep breaths to try and decrease the redness in his face and straightened out his clothing and hair before going in.

The room was connected to both Professor Snape's personal chambers and to his classroom. It had four doors leading from it, including the one which Harry just used to enter it. Professor Snape and his desk lay between them. The room's cold stone walls were only highlighted by the ebony wood of the furniture, including the three chairs, one of which Professor Snape was in, the other two which were placed in front of it.

Spheres of light floated in the corners of the room, illuminating shelves of jars which held various objects, seemingly bits plants and animals, suspended in liquids of various colours.  A cupboard stood in a corner and a fireplace was lit in the background, lending a little more light to the room.

Having avoided looking at Professor Snape for as long as possible, Harry finally dared to glance at him.

"Well, Mr. Potter, sit down. I do have another appointment after you."

Harry gulped again and scurried over to one of the hard chairs to sit down.

"Which classes have you had so far, Mr. Potter?"

"Um, History of Magic, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Herbology, Transfiguration and Charms, sir."

"And did you read your textbooks beforehand, as well as the supplemental books which I recommended?"

"Yes, sir, I read all of my books. They were all very interesting. Thank you for recommending the books which you did. I don't think I would have been able to understand them without the extra assistance. Potions especially."

Professor Snape was looking at him directly in the eyes. His eyes were the black of the cosmos, eyes that you could fall into and never wrench yourself from.

"Hm, good. Academic achievement is an important part of your time here at Hogwarts, the most important perhaps. When you take your NEWTS in seven years’ time, your marks will determine your career. Even before that, how you do on your OWLS in five years’ time, will determine which NEWTS you are allowed to take. For instance, only students with Outstanding on their Potions OWLS are permitted into my NEWTS class.”

"Yes, Professor Snape, Draco told me about how, even in classes like History of Magic, it's important to pay attention since all knowledge is worth having. He also talked a lot about our marks."

Professor Snape's mouth curled into a smile. "Yes, I imagine he would say that. Draco Malfoy is certainly a good friend to have in Slytherin, Mr. Potter, but be sure to listen to what he says and not get caught up. Critical thinking is an important skill, as is independent thought."

Professor Snape must have been talking about how much Draco talked about his father and about the mean things that he had said about Ron and Hermione. "Draco says silly things sometimes, Professor, but if he really meant them, he wouldn't be friends with me."

"Perhaps, Mr. Potter, he is certainly a good influence in other ways, however. Your hair is proof enough of that. How have your interactions with your other peers been?"

"Well, I met Ron and Neville on the train on the way here, but I haven't talked to them since. Within Slytherin, I talk most to Blaise and Pansy. Sometimes, one of the upper years will talk to me but mostly they talk to Draco. And Draco has said that he's going to teach me how to behave like a proper Slytherin with their help."

"That would be Ron Weasley and Neville Longbottom?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Hm. Another thing, Mr. Potter. Your first Potions class is one Friday, correct?" Professor Snape didn't seem to be waiting for an answer and continued. "I expect high standards from all of my Slytherins, especially in Potions. Be prepared for the next class. I will not have talk of me favouring my Snakes over the others, even though the reverse is often true. If you have questions about Potions, ask me during my office hours. If you are struggling in the class, I expect you to come to me to resolve it, is that understood?"

"Yes, Professor. I, uh, did have a question, sir, about Potions."

"Well, spit it out."

"Why do so many plants have different names?"

"Unlike the most of the spells and classes which are taught to you here, Mr. Potter, Potions is a subject with more complex origins that simply Greek or Roman. Potions were present on our island before it was conquered by the Romans. The plants have different names because some are the Latin or Greek name, some are the common name and others are names given for one of its properties. For instance, you remember picking out some Wolfsbane at the apothecary. It also goes by the name aconite, which is its Latin name and by the name Monkshood, which is a common name. It is called Wolfsbane because wolves dislike it, and it forms the base of a potion used to control werewolves, at least theoretically. Do you understand?"

"Yes, I think so, Professor Snape."

"Do you have any further questions?"

"No, Professor Snape."

"Then you may go. Remember what I have said, Mr. Potter."

"Yes, Professor."

Harry was relieved when he was able to finally break Professor Snape's gaze. He remembered how kind Professor Snape had been at Diagon Alley, for all his gruffness and how scared Harry had been after his speech on Sunday night, worried about disappointing him.

"Thank you for your time, Professor, and your help. I won't disappoint you or Draco."  
Professor Snape said nothing to that, and Harry didn't look back for fear of what he would see on his face.

As Harry reached the door, Professor Snape finally said, "Oh, Mr. Potter, you might try next time to be early for our meetings. Today you arrived exactly on time, but you won't always be so lucky."

Harry glanced back at Professor Snape, shocked. All this time, he'd been assuming that he'd been late to the appointment and now he found that he'd actually been right on time. Remembering Professor Snape's words, however, he worked hard to dampen the response on his face and replied simply, "I'll be here earlier next time then."

"Oh, and running in the halls is not permitted, as I am certain you remember. It would be most unfortunate if I was forced to remove points from my own house."

Harry gulped and said, "Of course, Professor, I'll be sure to notify my fellow classmates."

Harry thought that as he left he might have seen a flicker of something on Professor Snape's face, but it was gone within the next blink. Harry couldn't help but smile when he saw Bear standing outside Professor Snape's door as he left, and he felt his heart lighten.

"You always know just when to come, don't you?"

Bear looked at him hopefully before letting out a long meow.

"Well, come on then. Let’s get you to the common room. I'm certain that your admirers have missed you.” As Harry walked up the hallway, Bear a warm weight against his legs, he decided that the meeting hadn't gone as badly as it could have.


	7. Tea with Hagrid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The dreaded Potions class occurs and Harry visits Hagrid with a surprise companion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the delay, between an exam and a vacation I managed to get away from this but thanks to some prodding from my beta, I'm once more in the swing of things. There should be another chapter out by next week.

Harry spent the rest of the week worrying about Potions. No one else seemed to have gotten so stern a talking to from Snape: Draco had been positively bubbly after his meeting, for instance. So, Harry spent the rest of the week going through his Potions texts, and he even popped into the library once in an effort to memorize the entire book in three days. His friends seemed shocked by his abrupt descent into studiousness, but all except Draco understood when he explained what had happened during his meeting with Professor Snape. Professor Snape hadn't been clear when he said what would happen if he disappointed him in Potions, but Harry didn't really want to find out. The threat of disappointment was a common presence in the Slytherin common room, which was why Harry's friends had accepted his worry. It seemed that all of them came from families with high expectations.

All except Draco, of course. Harry had started out studying in the common room, not wanting to miss the time with his friends. It quickly became apparent that this was not the best strategy, however. Harry's resolve to study had caused a rift between them, and Draco spent most of Harry's first evening trying to draw him into the conversation, and when that failed, talking as loudly as possible, encouraging noisy, involved games and otherwise being the most distracting he could be.

Harry had never been a big participant in the evening discussions, but it seemed that what Draco most missed was the attention that Harry had paid to him. Harry missed spending the evenings in the common room with Draco, free from worry, eagerly hearing his stories, but he had to study. He would have been happy to spend time with Draco, and he had decided to study in the common room for that reason, but it wasn't as though Draco had suggested that he help Harry with Potions. Harry still went through his new morning routine with Draco as well as all his meals and classes too, so Harry still spent a lot of time listening to Draco. There was only so much of Draco's pouting that Harry could take; however, and that was what led him to the library.

It was mostly empty this early in the year: all of the assignments that Harry had been given were quite easy to do in the common room and required, at most, the use of their textbooks. Even the upper years seemed relaxed.

Harry had picked a table a little out of the way, big enough for only four people and hidden by the shelves. It wasn't that he was hiding - well, maybe he was hiding a little from Draco, but he doubted that he would come to look for him - he just wanted to have some privacy. That was why he was surprised when a voice behind him said, "Oh, you're studying Potions too. That's so good to see. OWLS are only five years away, after all, and I just know that the assignments are going to start piling up soon..."

Harry turned around, once his heart had slowed a little, and saw Hermione, the girl from the train, standing behind him. She was carrying a book bag that looked like all her textbooks were squeezed into. She quickly deposited it on the table, all the while speaking at the same rate. Much like Draco, she accepted his nods and his stunned smile as encouragement and kept going until finally she finished.

Harry sat, confused and more than a little overwhelmed, and went back to looking at his textbook, certain that it couldn't possibly be more confusing than anything she had to say. Thankfully, once she began studying, she was quite quiet, and Harry found that by the end of the evening, he had gone through a whole chapter.

"It's almost curfew, Hermione. It was nice to... eh, meet you again."

"Thanks for reminding me. I get so absorbed in the material sometimes..."

Harry couldn't imagine being so absorbed. While some of it was certainly interesting, studying from the textbook for long periods of time was difficult, and he found that he had to take breaks. That was part of the reason he enjoyed studying in the common room, surrounded by his friends. As it was, every time he stopped, he had to remind himself of Professor Snape's words about disappointing him and disgracing Slytherin. He could imagine Draco's face as well if he stumbled in Potions; how he'd realize that Harry wasn't one of the "good" sort.

He walked back to the dungeons, stomach heavy, certain that he wouldn't get much sleep that night.  
  


#  
  


The next morning seemed too normal after all of Harry's anticipation. He reminded himself that it would be nice to finally get a chance to see and talk with Neville and Ron but he was still nervous. At least Draco seemed nervous too that morning, if his fussing was any indication. Despite their nerves, breakfast was quite typical. Hedwig came to visit him and begged for some toast, which he gladly gave her. She had a letter on her foot as well; the first Harry had ever gotten by owl post.

 _Dear Harry,_ it said in a very untidy scrawl.  
 _I know you get Friday afternoons off, so would you like to come meet me and have a cup of tea at me hut around three? I want to hear all about your first week. Send us a letter back with Hedwig._  
 _Hagrid_

Harry smiled, pleased that Hagrid had remembered his promise. He took a sheet of parchment from his book bag and wrote, as quickly as he could with his quill, ‘Yes please, Hagrid, I'll see you later. Harry’, before tying it on to Hedwig's leg. Suddenly, his day looked much better. At least if Potions was awful, he'd have someone who still liked him and wanted to have tea with him.

When he turned to finish his breakfast, he found Draco looking at him strangely.

"Who was that then, Harry?"

"Oh, just Hagrid, he wants to have tea with me this afternoon."

Draco pouted. "But Harry, you've been so busy studying Potions this week, I thought we would spend time together this afternoon."

"Draco, you can come with me to Hagrid's if you want. I just didn't think that it was your sort of thing. Besides, I hadn't heard about any plans for this afternoon."

"Well, we were going to go the lake and play with the Giant Squid."

"Draco, we see the squid through our common room window sometimes, and if you wanted, you could change the view from your window in the dorm. I know you know how. You're the one who showed me how to change it."

Draco was still pouting.

"Draco, like I said, if you want, you can come with me to visit Hagrid. I met him on the platform here. He was nice and he helped with Bear. Besides, it's hardly like tea with him will take up the whole afternoon, and even if it did, there's still the evening and the weekend. We can go out to the lake and you can help me with our Transfiguration homework. I still haven't got my needle quite right."

Draco perked up at this, as Harry had known that he would. He had been the first one to successfully complete his Transfiguration, and mentioning it always made him preen. Harry, on the other hand, had the shape right and the texture, but not the colour: his needle was still tan with a red tip.

Draco didn't mention going to Hagrid's again, and instead began an involved discussion about Harry's problems in Transfiguration and his latest adventures with the Giant Squid, which Harry had missed.

Harry was in a good enough mood that it wasn't until they were halfway to Potions that his stomach began to sink. For once, Draco was being considerate and he changed his topic of conversation from all of the times he’d made potions to Quidditch, which was distracting and entertaining, particularly when he began discussing in great detail the failure of the English team in one of the qualifying matches for the European Cup later that year.

He, like the rest of Slytherin, quieted as they reached the Potions classroom. The room had, like Professor Snape's office, many strange things in jars up on shelves that lined each wall of the classroom. There were many desks, each sitting two and the room was colder than even the rest of the dungeons.

Harry quickly dropped next to Draco and looked around, hoping to see Neville or Ron. Neville was already there, standing in a corner looking terrified, but Ron was nowhere to be seen.  Harry gave Neville a wave and received a small smile in return. Unlike Neville, Hermione was sitting at the front of the class. Harry smiled when he met her eyes, in part because it seemed the polite thing to do.

Harry and Draco were sitting near the front of the class, though not in the first row like Hermione was. A large chattering announced the arrival of the rest of the Gryffindors, led by Ron, which made Harry wince and Draco look disdainfully at them. Luckily for them, no sooner had they sat down did Snape walk in. He looked more imposing than he had during the welcoming speech, and Harry's stomach flip-flopped a bit. Fortunately, the weight of his disapproval was firmly on the Gryffindors, and Harry, as a Slytherin, was therefore exempt.  
Like Professor Flitwick, Snape read their names from a registry. He paused on Ron's name and sneered, but continued smoothly afterwards.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making," he began. He spoke in barely more than a whisper, but they caught every word perfectly- like Professor McGonagall, Snape had the gift of keeping a class silent without effort. "As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses... I can teach you to bottle Fame, brew Glory, even stopper Death – if you aren't as a big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."

Complete silence followed this speech. Harry felt overwhelmed and nervous but also excited. He'd forgotten how much he'd looked forward to his Potions class after he'd visited the apothecary with Professor Snape. Beside him, Draco looked confident and pleased, and even he allowed an exchange of excited glances with Harry. Hermione looked desperate to prove that she was not a dunderhead, while Neville looked certain that he was. Ron was exchanging glances with his partner, a Gryffindor that Harry didn't know.

"Weasley!" Professor Snape said abruptly. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Harry's heart had started beating double-time, and he was glad beyond belief that he hadn't been asked the question. His stomach sunk though because, despite all of his efforts, he hadn't known the answer. A glance over to Draco and a small shake of Draco's head said that he didn't know either. Hermione certainly seemed to; she had her hand raised high enough.

Ron looked lost and terrified. "I don't know," he muttered.

"Hm, perhaps you should consider studying the next time you arrive late, especially if you are going to be so loud. Mr. Potter, where would you look if I told you to find a bezoar?"

Harry gulped, but he remembered the apothecary. "The stomach of a goat, Professor."  
Professor Snape nodded, and Ron looked relieved that Snape had moved his attentions elsewhere. "And Mr. Potter, what would I get if I mixed snake fangs, porcupine quills and horned slugs?"

Harry's mind blanked, but then he remembered one of the first potions in his textbook. "A Boil Cure Potion, sir."

"Correct, Mr. Potter. See what happens when you open a book before coming, eh, Weasley? For your information, asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion so powerful it is known as the Draught of Living Death. A bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat, and it will save you from most poisons. And a Cure for Boils is indeed made from snake fangs, porcupine quills and horned slugs. It will be the potion which you will prepare today. Well? Why aren't you all copying that down?"

The room was suddenly filled by the sound of two dozen students rummaging around for parchment and quills. Over the noise, Professor Snape added, "A point to Slytherin for good study skills, Mr. Potter, and a point from Gryffindor for a severe lack of study skills, Mr. Weasley."

Harry was elated and Draco smiled broadly at him. The next time Harry caught Ron's eye, however, he looked furious. Harry felt his heart sink a little. He carefully wrote down the procedure that Snape had written on the board, but his elation was gone. Even Draco's smiles weren't enough to lift his mood, and he dragged his feet all the way to the supply cupboard, not willing to look Professor Snape in the eye.

This was rather hard to do as Snape was sweeping around the classroom, criticizing almost every potion he came across, although he seemed to like theirs and made frequent stops to compliment them on the crushing of their snake fangs or on the perfect way that they had stewed their horned slugs. Snape was in the middle of telling everyone to look at the colour of their brew when clouds of acid smoke and a loud hissing filled the dungeon. Neville had somehow managed to melt his partner's cauldron into a twisted blob, and their potion was sweeping across the floor, burning holes in people's shoes. Within seconds, the whole class was standing on their stools, while Neville, who had been drenched in the potion when the cauldron collapsed, moaned in pain as angry red boils sprang up all over his arms and legs.

"Idiot boy!" snarled Snape, clearing the spilled potion away with one wave of his wand. "I suppose you added the porcupine quills before taking the cauldron off the fire?"

Neville whimpered as boils started to pop up all over his nose. Draco began to chuckle, but a firm elbow in the side from Harry prevented it from continuing.

"Take him up to the hospital wing," Snape spat at Neville's partner.

The rest of the class continued in silence once Neville had been taken away. No one else added porcupine quills to their potion before taking it off the heat.

When they finished an hour later, the class had lasted two hours and a half. Harry tried to catch up with Ron, but he was gone by the time they had packed up. He thought about going to visit Neville, but the Slytherins soon crowded around him, congratulating him on his first house point.   
  


#  
  


Harry was still a little down as they left DADA later that afternoon, and was surprised when Draco suddenly said, "I've decided that I'm coming with you."

"With me where?"

"To see your giant friend, of course, Hagrid."

"You want to meet Hagrid?"

"I've barely seen you all week since you were so worried about Potions. And it went excellent, so I don't see why you needed to spend all that time studying. And you won your first points for Slytherin today. We should celebrate."

Harry looked hard at Draco, trying to decide what he was playing at. Draco had barely met Hagrid, but Harry doubted between his accent, his size and his grooming that Draco was very impressed. In addition, Draco hadn't been especially positive about Harry's friendships with people outside of Slytherin for all of his begrudging approval of Neville on the train. But Harry had missed Draco, even if it had been he who spent the whole week avoiding him. For all that Potions was interesting and Hermione hadn't been as bad as she'd been on the train, he felt like he hadn't had fun much this week and it was only his first week of school.

"Okay, you can come. But, Draco, please be nice to him. He promised me that he'd tell me about my parents, and he was really nice about Bear and Hedwig."

Draco looked down his nose at Harry. "Of course I'll be polite, Harry. My breeding is impeccable. While I may have to bring my cloak to protect against the filth of his hut, I'm certain that I can manage."

They had to stop by the dorms to pick up the afore mentioned cloak. Harry had been hoping, without much conviction, that Draco had been joking. Draco had tried to insist that Harry get his too, but there was only so much of his snobbery that Harry could take.  
At five to three they left the castle and made their way through the grounds. Hagrid lived in a small wooden hut right on the edge of the Forbidden Forest. A crossbow hung by the door and a giant pair of galoshes stood below them. Harry's eyes widened at the crossbow, and Draco looked at once horrified and a little bit terrified.

Harry knocked on the wooden door, and at once they heard frantic scrambling and a few booming barks coming from inside. Hagrid’s voice rang out, "Back, Fang - back."  
Hagrid's face appeared through the crack in the door. "Hang on. Back, Fang!"

Finally, he opened the door, struggling to a hold on to the collar of an enormous, black boarhound. Hagrid looked quite surprised to see Draco. "Who's yer frind there, ‘arry?"

"Oh this is Draco Malfoy. I'm in Slytherin with him."

Hagrid nodded after glancing suspiciously at Draco. "Make yerself at home, ‘arry,” he said, letting go of Fang, who quickly bounded over to Draco. When Draco didn't pat him and began backing away for fear of getting dog hair on his trousers, Fang's head dropped and he started whining. Clearly, like Hagrid, Fang was not as fierce as he looked.

"Very well, mangy dog, I will pet you, but just this once, do you hear?"

Fang looked up hopefully at Draco at this comment. Draco sighed and sat down, carefully covering himself with his cloak before petting Fang awkwardly.

Hagrid brought a large plate of something he called rock cakes and a few cups of tea. The rock cakes almost broke his teeth, but Harry pretended to like them and Draco, surprisingly polite, refused.

"How are ye' liking Slytherin then, ’arry?" Hagrid had a hard look on his face when he said the word 'Slytherin'.

Harry immediately launched into an excited discussion of his adventures so far. Draco's face moved from icy to smug and Hagrid became less on edge.

"Well, I'm glad that they've ben treating ye right, Harry. I have to tell ye', I was a little bit worried when ye were Sorted there. There wasn't a single witch or wizard who ever went bad who wasn't in Slytherin... But yer change all that, eh, ’arry."

Draco went white at that comment, and Harry looked around frantically for something to distract him. He hadn't liked what Hagrid had said, but Draco responding to it certainly wasn't going to make anything better. He caught sight of a piece of paper that was lying on the table under the tea cosy. There was a cutting from the Daily Prophet:  
  
 _GRINGOTTS BREAK-IN LATEST_  
 _Investigations continue into the break-in at Gringotts on 31 July, widely believed to be the work of Dark wizards or witches unknown._  
 _Gringotts' goblins today insisted that nothing had been taken. The vault that was searched had, in fact, been emptied the same day._  
 _"But we're not telling you what was in there, so keep your noses out if you know what's good for you," said a Gringotts' spokesgoblin this afternoon._

Harry remembered Draco on the train telling him that someone had tried to rob Gringotts, but he hadn't mentioned the day. It was the very same day that Harry had been shopping in Diagon Alley, his birthday and when he had first gone to Gringotts. Why, it might have happened while he was there! He might have passed the person responsible in the streets. He remembered how strict the goblins had been and all the security that had been in place. Harry found himself glad that he had been with Professor Snape and Professor McGonagall.

"Draco, the Gringotts break-in happened the day that we were at Diagon Alley!"

Draco turned away from Hagrid and looked back at Harry. "Oh, yes, Father was most upset when he found out. Fortuitously, although some of the Malfoy treasures are kept at Gringotts, most are in other places. Still, I imagine they'll be losing a lot of business after this."

"It's very strange though that the thief broke into a vault that had been emptied that very same day. I wonder how the owner knew. I wonder how they managed to empty it all out. My vault was quite full. I can't imagine being able to get it all out without someone as powerful as that thief noticing."

"Well, there is magic for that sort of thing, shrinking charms and the like, Harry, but it might be that there were only a few objects in there. You never should trust what the Prophet says though. Father says that it's a rag. Of course, there are some who take it as truth, so it's important to know what the sheep believe."

"What do you think, Hagrid?" Harry asked, turning to look at him. To his surprise, Hagrid was looking very nervous and wasn't looking him in the eyes.

"Terrible business that is, just terrible." But Hagrid's voice was weak and unconvincing.

"Do you know something about the break-in? About the vault?" Harry asked, and Hagrid only became more nervous.

"'Course not, what would I know about a break-in?" He tried to laugh, but it was weak and very fake. Hagrid's eyes kept darting back and forth, and he refused to look Harry in the eyes.

Harry and Draco exchanged incredulous glances.

"Hagrid, what was in the vault?" Harry asked, trying to sound as confidant as he could. Draco had told him that the best way of getting someone to do what he wanted them to do was to be confidant and in control. Hagrid folded.

"Oh, nothing much, don't ye' worry. Dumbledore took care of it. Oh, I shouldn't have said that..."

"But does that mean that the thief might come here, to Hogwarts?" Draco managed to perfectly convey how appalling such a thing would be.

"Albus Dumbledore is the most powerful wizard in the whole of Britain, the only one that You-Know-Who was ever afraid of, Mr. Malfoy. Even if he had the Philo- whatever was in that vault, no one could get it from Hogwarts."

Hagrid sounded very firm but also proud, but the pride quickly faded when he realized what he'd just said.

"Now, boys, neither of you are to tell anyone what I just told ye'. Ye' shouldn't ha' heard it in the first place. I didn't tell ye' anything, ye' hear?" Hagrid was wringing his giant hands around a tea towel the size of a  blanket.

Harry and Draco quickly nodded and promised their silence. When they left soon after, Hagrid was still looking quite anxious and had begun pacing. Draco managed to avoid it, but Harry had ended up filling up his pockets with rock cakes in an effort to apologize to Hagrid for making him so worried.

Draco had no such feelings. "That was brilliant, Harry! And what Hagrid said about the vault was certainly interesting. I'll have to see if my father knows anything more. He should know that we're in danger. He's on the Board of Governors; he'll be able to deal with it."

"But, Draco, Hagrid will get in trouble! Surely your father will want to know who we heard it from."

Draco didn't seem very convinced by this argument. So, Harry plowed on. "We could keep watch for the thief this year instead. Imagine how impressed your father would be if we caught him ourselves. It would be an adventure."

Draco was looking tempted by this, and Harry smiled, pleased that Hagrid wouldn't be sacked. They continued to the castle discussing what could have been hidden in the vault. As they walked, Harry reflected that maybe today hadn't been so bad after all.


	8. Flying Lessons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry tries to be a better person and gets bitten for it, Flying Lessons approach and arrive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so incredibly sorry that this has taken so long, I'm really hoping that the next chapter won't. Hopefully I'll soon get back to writing every day, unfortunately, if not, it'll probably be like this. But don't worry, between my beta and myself, I think I'll manage to post one chapter a month. But thanks for all the support that you guys have given.

Harry went to visit Neville in the hospital, a little belatedly as it turned out, as he'd already been released. It was enough to make him feel bad, bad enough that he'd decided that he'd go to Gryffindor Tower and speak to Neville. Harry had been trying to for the last week, but it seemed that there was always something else. He waited in front of Gryffindor Tower where a portrait hung of a very fat woman in a pink silk dress.

"Can I come in? I have a friend in Gryffindor, Neville Longbottom. He just got released from the hospital. I should have gone to check on him after tea, but I didn't, so I need to see him now to apologize and wish him a fast recovery."

The fat lady looked him up and down.

"Do you have the password, dear?"

"No, I don't, but... Well, it's just that I haven't spoken to him since we were on the train and–"

Harry thought she would let him in soon: he remembered what the other Slytherins had said about portraits, and this one seemed particularly inclined to appreciate a dramatic, tragic story. Suddenly, the portrait swung open, almost knocking him over.

Out stepped Ron, followed by two Gryffindors Harry recognized from Potions. Harry hadn't spoken to Ron since the Sorting but Ron hadn't seemed happy in Potions earlier that day.

"Hi, Ron, I haven't seen you lately–"

One of the other boys came forward, speaking in an Irish accent, "What are you doing talking to Ron after that stunt that you pulled in Potions? Were you harassing the Fat Lady, you snake? Trying to get into our Common Room, are you?"

Harry looked around, trying to get Ron to look him in the eye.

"I just want to see Neville, Ron. I was worried about him after what happened in Potions–"

"Are you sure you don't mean me, Harry? You humiliated me in Potions!"

Ron was clearly angry, Harry could recognize the signs and the other two were closing in on him fast. He’d really thought that Hogwarts would be different. Until now, he'd known that it wasn't perfect, that people like Draco thought that people like Hermione weren't worth their time because they had been born to Muggle parents. He'd known that many people were upset that he'd been sorted into Slytherin and that not all of the professors liked him. But then, he hadn't realized that his house would be enough to make Ron Weasley hate him, enough to be willing to do what Dudley had done even after Ron had sympathized with Harry on the train. They'd shared Chocolate Frogs.

Harry gave one last look at Ron and looked hopefully at the open portrait hole, willing for someone to come out, for Neville or even Hermione. When a few seconds had passed, nothing had changed and Ron's friends were advancing on Harry, their mouths curled into nasty curves. And then, Harry fled, running as fast as he could, past students and avoiding teachers until finally he was in the safety of the dungeons.

The bullies wouldn't catch him down here he knew, even if being in Snape's territory meant that he could no longer run. The Gryffindors were terrified of the dungeons. The dungeons were also a more formal place, where Harry needed to make a better, more controlled impression. He felt the boy whose face he put on every morning slip back on, and Harry walked to his Common Room – and beyond that, his room – without visible fear; the only emotion slipping through was anger.

Draco all but clawed at him when he reached the door.

"Where were you?"

He'd kept his voice low enough so no one in the room could hear him, not that many were paying attention once they noticed the arrival. "I went to see Neville, Draco, in the infirmary. I was worried about him after Potions, and I hadn't seen him since the train."

Draco gave him another, more thorough look. "But you didn't speak to him. You got into a fight with some of the Gryffindors, didn't you? When will you learn? The other Houses want nothing to do with us. The only ones who will ever befriend a Slytherin will be the outcasts, Harry!"

Harry felt anger pouring into him. He knew that Neville and Hermione weren't the most popular of the Gryffindors, but what did that matter? "Are you saying that only outcasts want to be friends with me, Draco? Is that what you're saying? That I'm an outcast? Because that's what it sounds like. What about you then? Why do you spend time with me? You're not an outcast, surely. Is it because I'm a Slytherin, or because I'm the Boy-Who-Lived?"

Harry couldn't stop the words from flowing from his mouth, despite the way Draco's face changed, drawing up until Draco was almost snarling at him. Harry knew that he was only projecting, but he was still so mad. Mad at Ron, mad at his two friends, mad at the world, which seemed only to care about his House and his scar. He was mad at the teachers, at Snape, who had caused all of this by pitting him against Ron. He was mad as he had never been allowed to fight back against Dudley and now that he was allowed to, now that there were no fists to defend against and he could talk, his mouth was no longer under his control.  
He had always been able to control his body before. He had been able to run faster because he needed to, able to eat less because there was nothing more, able to school his features so that there was some chance that he wouldn't be punished for whatever Dudley had done.  
Draco was looking at him now, and he looked incredibly angry. Harry felt good, good because his anger was reciprocated and the rage needed that, needed it so that it could burn hotter, burn higher. However, another smaller part of him was in a crumpled ball, shouting "No!" and was pleading for Harry to stop because this was Draco, his first friend, maybe his only friend now. Draco, who fussed about his hair in the morning, who never seemed to be able to resist tucking his collar in when it was popped at the back; Draco, who had welcomed him in to Slytherin House.

Draco, who was so angry that his next words were in slow, measured tones that couldn't disguise the anger and the hurt that lay underneath. "I welcomed you into Slytherin, Harry. I met you when you were a nobody, before I even knew who you were, and I knew that you were maybe good enough for Slytherin. I knew that I could help you. I thought that you were the right kind of person, even though your mother was a – was a Mudblood!"

They were both silent, both shocked that Draco had said it, had acknowledged his hypocrisy.

Harry was the first to speak. "Take that back, Draco Malfoy! You take that back!"

"Why should I? You haven't taken back what you said. At least what I said is true, unlike your lies!"

They looked at each other for a moment before they both turned and ran. Harry felt hot tears dripping down from his cheeks. Everything had gone so wrong so quickly.  It wasn't supposed to go like this.   
  


#  
  


Flying Lessons were starting Thursday and it was all everyone could talk about. Even Harry heard about it, even though he wasn't speaking to Draco anymore or he to him. He'd been looking forward to learning how to fly since Draco had told him about that day in the robe shop. Harry remembered how Draco had complained about the school brooms and how they had planned to sneak into the broom shed to take some. He remembered how much Draco had complained about the prohibition of brooms being owned by first years and how much Draco wanted to be on the Slytherin team.

Of course it wouldn't have mattered if he had remembered because even though he and Draco weren't talking and weren't even sitting near each other, Harry still managed to hear all of Draco's complaints. The first one he had heard had made him upset enough that he'd gone to apologize to Draco. He'd been quickly dissuaded, however, by the look on Draco's face when he'd approached him at lunch.

But it seemed that everyone was Quidditch mad. Each student had a crazy story about their adventures on a broom when they were young. Blaise told all of Slytherin about how he had once caught a Muggle spying apparatus and saved his manor from certain discovery. Of course, Harry was fairly certain that the Muggle spying apparatus in question had been a remote control airplane.

Theodore Nott boasted that he had once flown into the Muggle village nearby and started dropping pranks from Zonko's that sounded like magical water balloons. Harry doubted that story most of all. The Statute of Secrecy wouldn't take well to that sort of thing, even if it was by a young pureblood heir.

Even Crabbe and Goyle had tales of flying, although theirs largely consisted of how they had crushed things as opposed to any skill at flying.

Pansy was out of her mind with it all. She had thought them all Quidditch mad as it was, but the arrival of Flying Lessons was apparently worse than even the Quidditch World Cup. She also seemed to have decided that although Draco and Harry had had what she called a falling out, she was still friends with Harry. Her friendship with Harry, however, seemed to consist mostly of her complaining about Draco and the other boys while petting Bear. Harry, largely bereft of friends, welcomed her.

Harry knew better than to remind her that he was as excited for flying as the other boys were: Pansy was scary when she was angry. Pansy was also his only source of information on Draco since this fight was much worse than their last. Of course, Harry wasn't really sure he could call what had preceded their first Potions class a fight though. Then, he had felt justified, and now, Harry felt entirely at fault. Pansy wasn't the most optimistic person either.

"Don't worry, Harry. I'm sure you two will work this out eventually."

Harry's only response had been a raised eyebrow.

"While it is true that Draco is amongst the most stubborn people in the world and never apologizes, especially when he thinks he's right–"

"Yes, Pansy, how is that supposed to make me feel better?"

Pansy gave him a look. "I don't know! But don't worry, honestly. Blaise and I are already getting sick of him. If you two don't fix things up between you, we will."

Harry gulped, because Pansy sounded very serious and certain, and as previously mentioned, Pansy was scary.

Even Hermione could only talk about Flying Lessons, although for reasons entirely different from Draco or Pansy. The only thing that the Slytherins and the Gryffindors alike were unhappy about was the fact that they were sharing the class. The only other class they shared was Potions, and their first Potions class had gone anything but smoothly.

Hermione was worried about Flying Lessons because she was afraid of flying. She seemed to spend all of her time after the announcement in the Library, looking through Quidditch books, like Quidditch Through the Ages, and would quote from them whenever anyone discussed flying, especially if they offered an opinion on it. Harry wasn't sure if it was working, because as Thursday approached, Hermione became more and more nervous.  
Neville had also started joining them sometimes in the Library. He seemed to hang on Hermione's every word, as though all her books could stop him from falling off his broom. Unlike all the other children from Wizarding families, Neville had never been on a broom, much less steered one. His Grandmother had forbidden it. Despite how much Harry liked Neville, he thought that this decision had probably been a wise one on her part. Neville was so clumsy with both his feet on the ground that Harry struggled to imagine him on a broom.  
Despite how excited Harry was to learn about flying, he couldn't help the pit of dread that kept growing in his belly. Harry remembered how Draco had looked when he'd rejected Harry after the cruel things Harry had said to him. In a way, he supposed that it was better that he and Draco weren't friends anymore. At least this way, Harry had been the only one to see Draco's utter disappointment in him. When Draco realized how poor of a flyer Harry was, if Draco had realized how worthless Harry was in public, everyone would have seen the look that haunted Harry. The thought was  unbearable.

Harry had thrown himself into schoolwork after their fight. He spent almost all of his time in the library with Hermione and Neville. Even though trying to learn how to fly from a book seemed silly to Harry, he started listening to Hermione's recited advice and memorizing it, hoping that he wouldn't make too big of a fool of himself. Draco no longer looked at him in halls or in their Common Room, so Harry supposed that he wouldn't have to worry too much about embarrassing himself in front of Draco. He knew that he was at fault, that he had started it, but how could he apologize and get Draco to be his friend again now that Draco had been shown how inappropriate he was to be a friend for a person like Draco Malfoy? The one time he had tried, he had been rejected.

He had hoped, at first, that in accordance with what Snape had said in his opening speech, that they would be forced by the other Slytherins to reconcile, but it wasn't like they were fighting in corridors. It seemed that only Pansy and Blaise were going to try to repair their friendship.  
  


#  
  


It was finally Thursday. Harry had been dreading it, but flying excited him enough that the morning of he had a slight spring in his step. Although they shared a dorm, Draco had still been managing to avoid Harry. Without Draco pushing him, some of Harry's hygiene routine had fallen out of use, but he still showered, shampooed and conditioned every morning. Sometimes, he remembered to clean and moisturize his face; sometimes, he didn't. He could never get his clothes or his hair as good as Draco could; however, that never surprised him. No one had commented on it yet, but he barely talked to anyone now.

He grew progressively more excited as the Slytherins grew closer to their first Flying Lesson, but he also became steadily more nervous. Harry arrived early to the field and tried to pick the best looking broom: balanced, with a full tail and a mostly straight shaft. He shifted from foot to foot as he stood next to it. He was one of the first on the field. He was glad to see that he didn't recognize any of the others on the field, and that none of them were paying attention to him. Hermione and Neville soon arrived. If he thought he looked nervous, there needed to be another word for how they looked. The bag that Hermione reluctantly placed beside her broom was heavy enough that it dropped with a thud audible above the excited conversations on the pitch. Draco and his friends came soon after, but Draco was behaving no different than he had the rest of the week, although he did look awfully smug and happy.

Neville caught Harry's attention. "Guess what I got from Gran today, Harry? A Rememberall!" He pulled a glass ball out of his pocket.

"What does it do, Neville?" Harry asked. He had never heard of a Rememberall before.

Hermione quickly perked up. "It grows red when you forget something–"

The ball was glowing red. Neville was looking at it in confusion.

"What have you forgotten, Neville?"

"I don't know, Harry, that's the problem." Neville looked miserable.

Harry didn't see what use such a thing would be, but Neville was his friend. "That's an awesome gift, Nev–"

Ron and his friends stepped up, elbowing their way in.

"What have you got there, Longbottom?" Ron asked. Harry couldn't see anything of the person he had met on the train anymore.

"A... a Rememberall."

"Why is it glowing red, Neville?" That was Dean, according to Neville and Hermione.

"Because he forgot something, Dean," Seamus said dismissively. "What did you forget, Longbottom?"

"I don't know..." Neville looked even more  miserable.

Madame Hooch finally came in, blowing her whistle. "Line up in front of your brooms, children, no talking."

Ron and his friends moved away, knocking Neville's Rememberall out of his hands. Neville reached to grab it when Madame Hooch's whistle rang out again. "Don't slouch, Longbottom!"

Harry looked at Neville with sympathy. The other boy was shaking. "You can get it when class is over, or when she isn't looking."

Neville nodded, looking fiercely at the small glass ball.

"It's right next to Hermione's bag. You can even kick it over closer if you'd like. I'm sure you'll be able to remember where it is."

Neville wasn't looking as worried anymore, so Harry chalked that one up as a victory.

"Now, raise your hand above your broom and say up," shouted Madame Hooch.

"Up!" rang out from all those present. Harry was pleased and surprised to see that he was one of the few to successfully call up his broom. Maybe he wouldn't be as bad as he thought. Unfortunately, so was Ron, but Draco was too, which was good. Even though Harry hadn't spent time with Draco in several days, he knew that if Draco hadn't been in the first group to summon their broom, he would have been miserable. Draco Malfoy miserable and sulking meant that everyone in Slytherin House and a few beyond would have been miserable too.

Hermione's broom just rolled over on the ground, but Neville's broom had risen so sharply that it had almost knocked Neville over, which only made him more nervous. Perhaps brooms, like horses, knew when you were afraid.

Once everyone had their broom in hand, Madame Hooch then showed them how to mount without falling off the end. She also walked by each of them, correcting their grips. Harry's heart dropped when Draco's grip was corrected. He'd been doing it wrong for years.

"Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard," said Madame Hooch. "Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet and then come straight down by leaning forwards slightly. On my whistle – three – two–"

But Neville, whose broom's response had made him only more nervous, pushed off hard before the whistle had touched Madame Hooch's lips.

"Come back, boy!" she shouted, but Neville was rising like a cork shot from a bottle – twelve feet – twenty feet. Neville's face was white and his grip shaky.

"Hold on tight, Neville," Harry shouted. "Don't let go!"

Neville's broom was currently slipping sideways, until, suddenly, Neville flipped over the top of his broom–

And Neville was still just barely holding on, his face utterly terrified, but now he was slowly coming down. His descent was a little bit stop and go: his broom dropping quickly, Neville looking at the quickly approaching ground and the broom coming to an abrupt stop. It continued this way until Neville was about ten feet from the ground when Neville's hands gave up, and he tumbled down to the ground, bruised and very shaken but otherwise unhurt.

Harry quickly rushed over to him, pulling him up. "How are you Neville?"

Neville gave Harry one look before he fainted.

Madame Hooch came bustling up. "Away from him, boy, give him some air!"

She shook Neville a few times, but when he didn't wake up, she turned to address the class. "I am going to bring this boy up to his dormitory. None of you is to move! You leave those brooms where they are, or you'll be out of Hogwarts before you can say "Quidditch!""

She waved her wand, and then Neville was floating in front of her as she led him into the castle.

Harry was still watching Neville leave when a voice interrupted the silence that had fallen following Neville accident, "I thought I told you to stay away from Longbottom, Potter!" It was the boy from Friday morning who spoke in a soft Irish lilt which was now an ugly snarl.

Harry turned to look at his attacker. He found it hard to blame Ron too much, but Seamus he could blame for his fight with Draco. Harry didn't know if he'd ever hated anyone as much as he hated Seamus Finnegan right then.

"It's a good thing that you weren't put in Gryffindor the way everyone thought. You're nothing but a coward, is what you are."

Seamus, it seemed, just couldn't stop talking. The rest of the students had turned to watch them as Seamus grew even closer to Harry and Hermione. The rest of Slytherin was looking at him, judging him, wanting to see how he would react to these slurs.

"Now, Ron said that you weren't so bad on the train, but I didn't believe him. And now he knows that I'm right. You said that you cared for Longbottom, and now look what you've done, you've made him fall. The lowest of the snakes is what you are!"

The mood of the crowd was turning ugly at this point, and Harry's anger was back again, but it was cold this time, instead of the heat that he'd burned Draco with by mistake.

"A coward? I'll tell you what kind of person a coward is. They're a person like you, who pretends that you care about Neville's well-being when at the beginning of this class you were teasing him about his Rememberall!"

Seamus looked at him and then quickly dropped his hand to the ground. "You mean this thing? I was just surprised that his Grandmother would give him such a useless toy to someone who forgot it on the first day."

Hermione was next to Seamus at this point. "He left it behind because he fainted, Seamus!"

Seamus turned to look at her dismissively. "Well, he's not much of a Gryffindor if he'd faint after from such a small height, is he?"

"Well, I can push you off your broom at that height, Finnegan, and we can see what will happen." Harry felt that anger that had lost him Draco and embraced it. He almost turned to look at Draco, wanting to see the smirk on his face, but he forced himself to keeping looking at his target.

Seamus turned to look at Harry as though he had forgotten that he was there at all, so content to posture in front of his audience. "Do you think you could even catch me up there? Never been on a broom, have you, Potter? Why don't we try, if you can catch me, I'll give you the Rememberall back. For now, though, I'll leave it with Ron for safe keeping." With that, Seamus threw the small glass ball to Ron and mounted his broom. "Well, Potter, you coming or are you still scared?"

"Harry, you'll be in so much trouble. Madame Hooch said that anyone who got on their brooms would be–" Hermione paused here, her face fearful and fierce, "–expelled," she finished in a whisper.

Harry turned to look at her. "I've already disappointed Neville once, Hermione. It won't be happening again!" With that, Harry mounted his broom just like Madame Hooch had shown him and thought, 'Up!'

When the broom first rose beneath him, he could barely believe it. It felt just as magical as when Professor McGonagall had first changed into a cat in front of him or when he'd first read that letter. For the first few seconds, he was certain he would fall off, but just a few moments later, he'd finally found the one thing that he was good at.

As he climbed to hover next to Seamus, he found that he was grinning. "Well, Finnegan, still think that I can't push you down? I'm just an arm's width away now. Who's scared now, Finnegan? Now, if you get Ron to give me back that Rememberall, we can forget all about it."

"You really think that? Hey, Ron, throw that over here!"

Ron obeyed and Seamus caught the small ball easily, just a few feet above Ron's head. Harry was smiling when, suddenly, Seamus started rising once more. Harry followed after him until they were at the same height as the tallest branches.

Seamus took another look at Harry, who was growing ever closer. "If you want it so bad, Potter, you can catch it yourself!" He shouted just before he threw the small glass ball with all of his might towards the castle.

Harry didn't think, he just followed, keeping his eyes locked on the ball as all the sounds disappeared. It was only him, his broom and that ball. He dove as he began approaching the castle walls. They'd almost arrived at ground when Harry's hand darted out to grab the bauble. He fell against the ground, tumbling hard, knowing that he'd have a bruise on his side tomorrow morning. But it didn't matter, because as he stood up and turned to see his class, he found them speechless. A cheer broke out, only to be silenced as a dark cloak swept out onto the field.

It was Professor Snape. "Mr. Potter, you are to come with me. The rest of you, not a word. The first person who moves shall have detention with me for the rest of the year."

Harry's heart clenched and he held on tight to his broom and to Neville's Rememberall. Just moments ago, he couldn't have been happier, holding that ball; and now, his world had dropped out from under him. All that he could think about was being expelled. He should have listened to Hermione after all.


	9. The Midnight Duel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of Harry's flying lessons and a duel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: Another long wait for this chapter, I'm very sorry. The good news is that I'm doing NaNoWriMo this month which is how I finished this chapter and should mean that the rest of the chapters will follow quickly. A big thank you to Mako-chan who has helped and poked and had an amazing turn-over rate for this chapter.

Harry followed Snape into the castle, holding tightly on to Neville's Rememberall. Professor Snape had made him leave his broom by the castle entrance as they had descended into the castle. Students glanced at them as they passed by, each looking away quickly when they saw Professor Snape's face. They were undoubtably grateful that it was him and not themselves who was following Professor Snape. They knew that horrible things were about to happen to him, possibly dissections. Harry remembered the upper years telling of students, Gryffindors of course, who had gone into Snape's lab and never returned. Apparently human remains were required for certain dark potions.

Harry was trying to school his face. It hurt, even more than the certain knowledge that he was about to be expelled, that he would leave while he was fighting with Draco. Draco would certainly not want to talk to him to someone who had been expelled certainly after the horrible things that Harry had said to him. Of course, Harry doubted that Draco would even allow someone who was expelled to Owl him. There would probably be charms blocking Hedwig from Hogwarts. Harry wondered if he'd be allowed to keep Hedwig now that he'd be going back to the Dursleys. Remembering their cruelty towards her Harry wondered if she and Bear might be better off with Draco or Pansy. He would miss them, going back as he would be to a friendless existence but Harry remembered what Dudley had done to his own pet turtle and could only imagine what he would inflict on a pet of Harry's. Harry would be unable to defend them and himself with his wand broken.

For all of his disappointment and fear, the joy of flying and catching the Rememberall was still present. Nothing it seemed could make it go away but in some ways it only made the walk worse, knowing that he'd never again be able to fly, that the one thing that he'd ever been good at would be taken from him.

They finally reached Professor Snape's office and he still had yet to say a word. They entered the same room that Professor Snape that they had spoken last time. Harry remembered how nervous he had been then, the warnings that the professor had given. He knew that he'd broken them all when he'd gone after Neville's Rememberall. 

Harry was torn from his thoughts however by Professor's Snape's sharp voice. 

"I do not think, Mr. Potter, that I have ever seen so clear of a violation of the rules as I saw minutes ago in all of my years of teaching. Your professor left a first year class, some of whom, including you, had never before flown, with the strict instructions to not mount your brooms. You violated this regulation and in full view of the castle. I saw your little performance and so did many others. You violated every principle and value of Slytherin House."

Harry stayed silent trying very hard not to cry, to hold his face steady and dispassionate like Snape and Draco had said. He was still holding the Rememberall, now hard enough that he had to force himself to relax his grip. It would do no good if he was expelled and broke the very cause of his efforts.

Still, Harry wanted to protest. He knew that he was breaking the rules but they'd weren't important not compared to Neville. He'd been doing the right thing though, doing what he'd always wished someone would do for him. Rules were stupid anyway, adults never followed them and neither did children.

But Professor Snape had said that what was most important was not getting caught. He'd never said that Harry had to obey all of the school's rules just that he couldn't get caught. But it had happened in front of a crowd and he'd been unable to stand by. He'd remembered the way Dudley had broken any toy or book that Harry had ever found (having never owned any until now). Once he'd been given a lollipop by the school nurse. He'd had to eat very quickly because Dudley would have and had torn it from his mouth. Books had been torn to shreds, toys stomped on. Harry hadn't been able to let the same thing happen to Neville when Harry had already failed him. He opened his mouth to tell that to Snape when the professor began speaking once more.

"I don't want to hear the rest of the story, why you did it, if there's someone else at fault... It doesn't matter what you did, it matters what people think you did, what people saw you do. 

"In addition, there are a number of people at this school, including myself, who are tasked with keeping you safe. You blatantly disregarded rules that were designed to keep you safe simply so you could show off. You spat on the grave of your mother who sacrificed her life to save your own."

Harry sat in his chair shivering. He hoped that Professor Snape would send him back to the Dursleys already or perhaps chop him into potion ingredients. 

"As it happens, Slytherin could use a new Seeker. Slytherin has won the House Cup for the last seven years in a row and I will not have that streak ending because we were unable to find a competent Seeker. What you did, Mr. Potter, was unlike anything I have ever seen, certainly for someone who has never before ridden a broomstick. Your father was talented at flying and it is fortunate for you that the same day you showed that you'd inherited his passion for breaking rules, you also showed your skill on a broomstick. It is what has saved you from expulsion today, Mr. Potter. "

Harry could barely breath, he wasn't going to be expelled?

"I don't want you to ever forget this moment, Mr. Potter. Slytherin's tenants are ambition, cunning and tradition. A moment is judged based on circumstances and impressions. A cunning person will achieve their ambitions by knowing the most that they can about any circumstances and acting in accordance to them. Today you were lucky, Mr. Potter because your actions happened in such a context that you will be the youngest Seeker in over a century instead of on a train back home tomorrow."

Harry couldn't breath only blink and clutch the ball and hope that this was not a dream. Professor Snape continued and Harry prepared to hold on to his every word.

"Now you will talk with Marcus Flint and he will explain how Quidditch works here at Hogwarts. You know him already, I believe. You will follow his every directive and you will attend every practice. If not, you will be on the first train out of here, do you understand?"

Harry squeaked out, "Yes, Professor."

"You're mumbling, Mr. Potter."

Even that couldn't break his mood. He could tell that Professor Snape was happy too if that small twitch at the corner of his lip was anything to go by. 

Harry took a deep breath. "Of course Professor, I'll compose myself." 

Harry tried to remember all of Draco's instructions. He got up, trying to keep his posture straight and his voice steady. Harry looked Professor Snape directly in the eye, "Thank you Professor Snape for this opportunity and for your words of advice. I won't forget your warning."

Professor Snape was looking at him in the eye. "Yes, Mr. Potter, I believe that you'll try to do just that. Please remember that it is not trying or good intentions that are important but results." 

 

#

 

Suddenly there was a sharp knock on the door.

"Come in, Mr. Malfoy. I believe you'll find Mr. Potter quite unharmed."

Draco came in, a determined look on his face, his posture far straighter than Harry's had been, his face poised. "Professor Snape," he began, "I'm not sure what Harry has told you but  you should know that Seamus Finnegan from Gryffindor was the one who went up on his broom first and that Harry only followed him to protect Longbottom's honour. For all that their line has fallen recently, it is most improper that a half-blood like Finnegan said what he did. As Longbottom's friend, Harry had no choice but to challenge him. He was raised by the most horrid of Muggles so he didn't know that he should have gotten his revenge or helped Longbottom get it out of sight. I'll teach him so that he may represent Slytherin House better in the future."

Standing as Draco was with that look on his face, he looked quite odd to Harry, too young for the words that he was using. But to hear Draco defending him even after their fight was more than Harry could have dreamed off.

"Mr. Potter is of no danger of expulsion, Mr. Malfoy. In fact he has just become the youngest Seeker in over a century," Professor Snape said very dryly.

Draco turned to look at Harry and Harry couldn't help the smile that spread across his face. He stopped and remembered how often Draco had talked about being Seeker. Maybe Draco would go back to hating him. Before he could work himself up again though Draco was smiling back.

Their argument forgiven, Draco turned back to look at Professor Snape. "So first years are being allowed on the teams this year, Professor?I'll be certain to come to try-outs. While the role of Seeker may be taken I'm sure that I will suit Chaser equally well," he said with the greatest of confidence.

"Yes, Mr. Malfoy, I have spoken to the Headmaster. He insisted that if Mr. Potter were to be allowed on the Quidditch team this year, the other Houses must be given the chance too. Be aware that the first years may be judged more harshly. There is a great deal of worry about injury in Quidditch especially amongst eleven year olds."

Draco's smile told the world that he wouldn't be taking Professor Snape's advice. They left Professor Snape with a courteous farewell but once they reached the hall Draco visibly distanced himself. Harry felt another pang of guilt. Draco must have been very worried to come to Professor Snape as quickly as he had despite their fight. Even now, with the possibility of becoming Chaser he wasn't talking about how'd dazzle Marcus Flint or how he'd surely get the position. Harry wondered when he'd started to miss Draco's boasting.

Draco had been hurrying ahead of him but Harry's hand shot out, almost without his knowledge, grabbing hold of his shoulder. Draco turned quickly to face him, a look of shock and annoyance on his face.

"What's your deal Harry? First you insult me when I was trying to help you and not just once. Then you ignore me to spend time with that Mu-Muggleborn Gryffindor and now when I've put myself on the line to speak to Snape on your behalf you don't thank me or even try to apologize–"

"Draco I'm sorry, I didn't mean to say all of that stuff. I just – you're the most popular boy in our House and I'm not used to having friends and I keep thinking that you're going to leave because why would you want to spend time with me? I'm not anyone really and no one's ever been friends with me and I don't know how it works. I'm quiet and you love talking and sometimes I worry that the only reason anyone's friends with me is because I'm the Boy-Who-Lived..."

Harry couldn't help himself, he was crying and his voice was breaking and all he could hear was "Freak," "Freak," "Freak." The Dursleys had been right and now that he had shown Draco how unsuitable of a friend he was Draco would leave and would tell Pansy and Blaise so they wouldn't try to fix anything because Harry Potter should have been a Hufflepuff because only Hufflepuffs and maybe Gryffindors cried like little girls. Harry knew better than to cry and to speak.

He felt a hand touch his shoulder gently as though touching a wild animal about to bolt. Harry realized that he was still clutching Draco's shoulder and quite hard too. But if he let Draco go he might leave.

"Harry... I knew you were the right sort of person before I knew you were the Boy-Who-Lived. My father was so mad at me in my last letter to him. You're supposed to be the enemy you know. But I told Father that you weren't Gryffindor-like at all and that you didn't know anything about your heritage but that I knew that you could be taught. I don't fight for people I don't think worth my time. I get to pick who I spend my time on, Harry and I've picked you."

It was the worst kind of reassurance even to Harry who had never had to be talked down before. Yet it was so Draco that it was perfect and  Harry was crying harder but in relief now. Finally he stopped, more embarrassed than before.

"I didn't mean to go all Hufflepuff on you Draco."

Draco sniffed. "Well, you have had a rather trying day, I suppose, what with almost killing yourself and then being torn apart by Snape. I'll give you a pass for today." He let the words fall and waited for a moment. Harry looked at him and then walked quickly to stand next to him. Draco gave him a small, quick smile before continuing, walking at a brisk pace. "Now, I was thinking about the tryouts and I was wondering if Father will let me buy a racing broom for them..."

Harry smiled, finally able to enjoy his new position.

 

#

 

The news had spread by dinner. It seemed that everyone knew that first years would now be allowed to try-out for the House Quidditch teams. This made the upper years quite grumpy as they hadn't been allowed to in their year, but they soon got over it. 

All of the first year Slytherins wanted to know how Harry had survived Snape's wrath, a story that Harry was content to leave to Draco. Draco certainly told it much better than Harry would have: he made it seem as though Harry had carefully planned out the entire manoeuvre in an effort to allow the first years an opportunity to try out for Quidditch.

"Yes, Potter here's going to be our new Seeker," Marcus Flint was saying to some of his friends a little way down. "I didn't see the dive myself, but Professor Snape would never have gone to Dumbledore unless he thought the trade was worth it."

Harry hadn't even been able to talk to the Slytherin captain yet. It didn't seem to matter though. The moment Harry had walked into the hall, he'd been given a good thump on the back in congratulations. Harry was certain that Marcus would fully articulate his expectations for Harry later, but Harry had learned by now how much appearances mattered in Slytherin and Marcus needed to look informed and in control.

Getting the Seeker position didn't seem to have improved Ron's opinion of him any. When Harry had swept his eyes across the Gryffindor table to see if Neville's wrist had been fixed, he had managed to catch Ron's eye. The rude gesture that had followed would have lost Gryffindor several points, even from McGonagall, but the teachers were far too pre-occupied by their own conversation. The High Table seemed to be caught in the midst of an especially passionate argument that McGonagall and Snape were at the heart of. Harry wondered if the Heads of Houses were talking about Quidditch too.

Suddenly, he was shaken from his thoughts by a sudden jab to his side, courtesy of Draco's pointy elbow. Harry was so surprised that he nearly flinched—only managing to rein it in at the last second.

"Thinking about flying again, Harry? Since we've had our Flying Lesson and we can rent out school brooms until Father sends mine in from home, we should practice one night after dinner, don't you think?"

Harry turned to look at Draco, only now noticing how out of it he'd been. He couldn't keep letting himself fall off of his guard. One wouldn't be respected in Slytherin unless they had all their wits about them, and Harry was determined to rejoin his old study group.

"I'm not sure what my practice schedule will be, Draco, but I'd love to go flying with you. I was wondering if I could join your study group again so that I don't fall behind now that I'll have extra responsibilities."

Draco smiled widely at Harry. "You never left the group, Harry." Without another word, Draco started on his strategy for the tryouts and Harry was happy to let him. The only thing that would make being on the Slytherin team better would be being on the Slytherin team with Draco.

 

#

 

They were leaving the dining hall when Harry bumped into Ron Weasley. He had been caught up in listening to Marcus's speech about his responsibilities. It seemed that they'd be practicing three times a week from 4:30 to 5:30. That would allow them just enough time for dinner, which started at six. Harry was pleased to find that one of the practices would be Friday night but the other two would be Monday and Wednesday, which would make it very difficult for him to study and stay on top of his homework. He had other readings too: the books on the Wizarding World, Draco's etiquette books, some of the other students' suggestions. His schedule had been full enough before, but there was no way that he could say no to flying for three hours every week. 

Marcus Flint was very scary when he talked about the practice schedule and his penalties if you were late—no matter your excuse—so Harry knew that he would have to do all of his assignments as soon as he got them and try to fit in some studying between his responsibilities.  None of that could dampen his excitement, however, or his pleasure that he and Draco were friends again. He left the Dining Hall in a haze of happiness.

The resulting collision wasn't so bad, since Harry and Ron had not hit each other dead-on. Nevertheless, they both fell to the ground and when Ron stood up, he was glaring at Harry.

"So, you're a Seeker now. Seekers have the most dangerous positions, you know. A cowardly snake like you won't be any good at it. You'll break your neck your first game. If you want to prove that you're more than that, come to the Trophy Room at midnight for a Wizard's Duel. Seamus is my second."

Harry got up, shocked. Duels certainly weren't for children, but he was hurt that Ron felt so horribly about Harry. It was all Ron and Seamus's fault for throwing the Rememberall in the first place. He was still trying to decide how to react when Draco's voice came from beside him.

"Harry will be there and I'll be his second. We'll make you Gryffindors pay for what you've done to Harry and our house."

Pleased to have gotten a reaction, Ron turned and stormed away, Seamus following behind him.

Harry turned to look at Draco. "We aren't allowed out of our dorms after curfew, much less for a duel. I can't afford to get into trouble with Snape again."

Draco sighed, turning Harry with an arm around his shoulder as they walked towards the library to find some books for their Potions assignment that was due the next day. They had to write a foot of parchment describing the uses of burdock root and how to prepare it. Beyond that he still had to do the reading for the potion they were making that week. 

"I had to respond. It's dishonourable to not accept a duel, and Weasley needs to be taught a lesson. But, if you're worried about getting caught, we can just tell Professor Snape that Weasley and his friends will be in the Trophy Room at midnight. He's always looking for an excuse to dock their points," Draco said.

Harry was shocked. "Draco, that's far more dishonourable than refusing a duel. It says so in all of the books."

Draco looked ashamed. "But it's just a kid's duel, Harry; that doesn't count."

"I have to go now, don't you see, Draco? I'm not sure how we're going to get passed Snape and the other teachers since they'll be patrolling the hallways. And I'll need to practice duelling spells as well. I'm hardly going to win by Transfiguring a matchstick into a sewing needle," Harry said passionately. He brought it down to a whisper as they approached the library.

"Look, Harry, my father's taught me some of the basic duelling charms and practices. Weasley not going to know any more than you do. We'll finish our Potions work quickly, and then we can practice the spells until curfew. We'll pretend to sleep and then sneak out. Besides, the upper years told me that Snape usually patrols around Gryffindor Tower. Weasley and his friends are much more likely to be caught."

Harry sighed again but Draco's suggestions were the best either of them could come up with if Harry was going to be attending the duel. They quickly grabbed their usual table and started looking through the stacks. 

Once they had finished their homework, Draco took out a few of the basic duelling books. Harry was pleased to see that there was only one spell that he really needed to know called _Expelliarmus_ but Draco was adamant that he would need something else, so they also planned to practice the Jelly-Legs Jinx.

 

#

 

Several hours later, Harry was lying silently in his bed. He knew that Draco must also be awake because Draco would never fall asleep when there were adventures to be had in the near future. Harry glanced out of his window, looking at the lake. The water was so dark that only the smallest hints of light would sometimes come through the thick curtains of darkness. Occasionally, a curious fish would come investigate the glass. 

At the beginning of the year, the members of the dorm had had a bad habit of tapping on the glass when the fish swam by, hoping to get their attention. Harry had been worried about talking to them about it at first but then he had remembered the snake in the zoo and how much he had hated it when Dudley had banged on the glass and Harry knew that he had to stop them. He hadn't been sure that any of them would listen, but Blaise and Draco had calmly backed him up and fishes were beginning to investigate the glass again. Sometimes, a fish that glowed in the dark would come up. Most of them were very scary looking but they were interesting too.

The upper years said that there were mere-folk in the lake, but Harry had never seen any. When one of the upper years had shown him a picture of them from one of the library's books, Harry had been glad not to have. They looked nothing like how Muggles imagined them, and Harry was certain that if one of them came to investigate the dorm through the window one night he would have been terrified. Even during the day—though there wasn't much light that came through the windows. Instead, they had torches on the wall that adjusted so that the rooms always gave off as much light as there would be if they were standing outside instead of underground. At night, there were other torches that were more like fire.

Bear was a warm ball against Harry's side. Sometimes, Bear didn't sleep with him, preferring to investigate the castle and occasionally bringing Harry back something—which could vary from a dead mouse to warm scarf. At first, Harry had worried that Bear was stealing them from somewhere but no one ever said that they were missing the scarf or the Chocolate Frog cards that Bear would give him. Harry chalked it up to a mystery. Bear was, after all, a very smart Kneazle. Harry was certain that Bear would never get Harry in trouble on purpose.

Harry checked the time once more. 23:45, only a little longer until midnight. The thought made him shudder with nervousness. For all that Draco had said that they wouldn't be caught, much less expelled, Harry still felt a lingering fear. He closed his eyes once more, doing his best to pretend that he was sleeping, without much success.

He almost jumped when he felt a hand shaking his shoulder.

"Shh, Harry, we mustn't wake the others. Just get out quietly. I've checked the common room: it's empty," Draco said in a whisper.

Harry nodded before realizing that Draco probably couldn't see him and quietly slipped out from under the covers. Together, they crept down the stairs, shoes in their hands, Bear trailing behind them. Harry glanced around, waiting for an alarm to go off, for Professor Snape to appear at the doorway, for an upper year to pop out of a corner. Nothing happened. 

They reached the door and quickly put on and laced up their shoes. Harry considered leaving Bear behind, but he wasn't certain that he would be able to make him stay. Bear could take care of himself anyhow, and Harry knew that Bear often roamed the corridors alone at this time. If a professor heard a noise, provided Draco and Harry could find a hiding spot, the professor would think that it had been Bear's fault.

They moved through and out of the dungeon as quietly and as quickly as they could, checking around every corner with Bear in the lead. Finally, they were out of the dungeons, but they knew that they were no safer. They had carefully plotted out a route from the dungeons to the Trophy Room, trying to stick to areas that they hoped would be out of the way. Once, they heard a scuffle of shoes against flagstones and they had pressed themselves against the wall as close as they could, hiding in a dark spot. The professor, whoever it had been, didn't even stop and they both breathed a sigh of relief.

Harry and Draco entered the Trophy Room, but Ron and Seamus were nowhere in sight. Draco was muttering about cowardly Gryffindors, so Harry—having heard this talk one too many times—turned to look instead at the trophies which lined the walls, along with pictures of past Head Boys and Head Girls. The long gallery at one end was lined with suits of armour as though they were guarding the room from invaders.

They heard the sound of feet on stone and quickly hid behind one of the pillars. As the footsteps grew closer, however, they recognized the voices. Harry was surprised to hear that one of them was Hermione. She was the last person that Harry had expected. Now that they knew who was coming, Harry and Draco quickly stood up, ready to look imposing. Draco, after much persuasion, had been convinced that they just needed Ron to freak out. After all, duels happened between serious wizards, not between firsties at Hogwarts at midnight in the Trophy Room. 

Ron and Hermione came in, shouting as loud as one could while whispering. They stopped, however, when they saw Harry and Draco. Following in behind were Seamus Finnegan and Neville. Neville smiled quickly. "I told you that Harry would be here, Ron. Harry's not some coward."

Harry turned to look at Neville, surprised by his presence even more than by Hermione's. He was touched by Neville's confidence in him, especially when Harry felt as though he'd been a rather poor friend of late. 

Every one turned to look at Neville in surprise. His confidence seemed to have left with his words and he deflated, curving his shoulders until they looked away.

"I'm no coward, Ron. I don't know why you hate me so much. We were friends on the train!" Harry said, hoping to end the duel as soon as possible.

"Friends? Friends don't betray each other or lie about what kind of person they are, you slimy snake! And friends certainly don't make each other lose points by being smart-Alecs!"

Ron's voice had gotten progressively louder as he had been talking. Harry was about to whisper to him to quiet down when there was a noise in the next room that made them jump. Harry had just raised his wand, Draco's not a moment behind him, when they heard someone speak.

"Sniff around, my sweet. I heard something. They might be lurking in a corner."

It was Filch, speaking to Mrs. Norris. Harry glanced around in horror, then catching Draco, Hermione and Neville's eyes, he gestured, and they scurried as silently as they could towards the door, away from Filch's approaching voice. Harry didn't stop to look back and see if Ron and Seamus were following. He took up the rear while Draco moved quickly ahead. Harry's robes had barely whipped around the corner, out of the room when they heard Filch enter the Trophy Room.

"They're in here somewhere. I heard them," Filch muttered. "They’re probably hiding."

Draco was still leading them forwards. He mouthed, "This way!" to the others as he led them down the long gallery of suits of armour. Harry could hear Filch getting nearer and nearer. Neville, who had been falling behind, suddenly let out a frightened squeak and broke into a run. He tripped though, grabbing Ron around the waist, and together they toppled straight into a suit of armour.

The clanging and crashing that rang out was enough to wake the entire castle.

Harry, dragged them both up and together they sprinted down the hallway, following Hermione and Draco's trail, not looking back to see how closely Filch was following. Harry ran, turning around corners, quickly catching up to Hermione and Draco, who were now also running. Harry tried to think back to the map in the Slytherin common room, trying to figure out where they were going. They pushed aside a tapestry and found themselves in a hidden passageway which let them out near their Charms classroom, thankfully very far away from the Trophy Room. 

Harry put his head between his knees, breathing quickly and deeply. He hadn't run so far or so fast since he'd come to Hogwarts but now his practice with Dudley had served him well.

"I think we've lost him," Harry said after a moment before standing up and leaning against one of the cold stone walls next to Draco, who managed to look completely composed. Not even a drop of sweat ran down his forehead and his hair, although mussed, looked like it had been styled that way. Harry was certain his hair looked in no way as good. Neville was still bent double, wheezing and spluttering while Hermione was gasping, clutching at a stitch in her side. Ron was also breathing heavily. Seamus Finnegan was nowhere to be found.

"I-told-you," Hermione gasped, looking with accusing eyes at Ron. "I-told-you!"

"Where did Seamus go? I hope he got safely back to Gryffindor tower," Ron said, "we've got to get back there too, quickly as possible."

"Enough bellyaching and talking, lions," Draco said, "let's go."

It wasn't that simple. They hadn't gone more than a dozen paces when a doorknob rattled and Peeves came shooting out from one of the classrooms ahead of them. He caught sight of them and gave a squeal of delight.

"Be quiet, Peeves," Draco said imperiously while Hermione begged him to do the same.

Peeves cackled. "Wandering around at midnight, Ickle Firsties? Tut, tut, tut. Naughty, naughty, you'll get caughty."

"Not if you don't give us away, Peeves, please," Hermione pleaded.

"Should tell Filch, I should," said Peeves in a saintly voice, his eyes glittering wickedly. "It's for your own good, you know."

Ron had had enough it seemed and moved forward, taking a swipe at Peeves. Harry moved forward as soon as he saw Ron moving, as did Draco, but they caught empty air. 

"STUDENTS OUT OF BED!" Peeves bellowed, "STUDENTS OUT OF BED DOWN THE CHARMS CORRIDOR!"

Ducking under Peeves, they ran, the fear of expulsion snapping at their feet, right down to the end of the corridor where they slammed into a locked door. Harry jiggled the handle helplessly. He could hear footsteps, Filch running as fast as he could towards Peeves's shouts.

"Oh, move over," Hermione snarled. She tapped the lock with her wand and whispered, " _Alohomora_!"

The lock clicked and Harry swung the door open. Everyone piled through, including Bear. Harry was worried what might happen to him if Filch should find him tonight. Harry and the others pressed their ears against the door, straining to hear the sounds coming from the corridor.

"Which way did they go, Peeves?" Filch was saying. "Quick, tell me!"

"Say 'please,'" responded Peeves with a grin in his voice.

"Don't mess with me, Peeves; now, where did they go?"

"Shan't say nothing if you don't say please," said Peeves in his annoying singsong voice.

"All right - please!"

"NOTHING! Ha ha! Told you I shan't say nothing if you didn't say please! Ha  ha! Ha ha haa..." And then, they heard Peeves floating away and Filch cursing in rage.

"He must think that this door is locked," Harry whispered. "I think we'll be okay —what is it, Neville?" Neville had been tugging at Harry's sleeve for the last minute.

Harry turned around. For a moment, he was certain he'd walked into a nightmare. It was hard to believe that he hadn't simply fallen asleep when he'd closed his eyes. He had Draco pinch him to be sure, but when he looked up they were still in a corridor. In the forbidden corridor on the third floor to be more specific. He knew why it was forbidden now too.

Ahead of them stood a monstrous dog whose head could almost brush the ceiling. It had three heads and three pairs of rolling, mad eyes and three noses which were twitching and quivering in their direction and three mouths with three pairs of glittering fangs upon which, like Christmas garlands, hung glittering ropes of saliva.

It was standing quite still, its many eyes locked upon them. Harry was quite certain that the only reason that they weren't dead was that they had surprised it. But there was no mistaking the rumbling growls that were increasing in volume, and Harry was quite certain that it would be getting over its surprise in no time at all. At his feet, Bear was pressing as hard as he could against Harry's legs. Harry quickly picked him up.

Draco was already holding onto the doorknob and when he nodded, he opened the door and they all took off running. The Charms corridor was now empty. Filch must have hurried off somewhere. Harry and Draco took a look at Hermione, Ron and Neville and then both groups took off, Bear leaping from Harry's arms as they did. Once they had left the area though, Harry and Draco began with their previous tactics. Filch would undoubtedly have warned the other teachers, and the last thing they wanted to do was to race around a corner, straight into Professor Snape. By some miracle, they made it safely back to their common room, where they quickly and quietly spoke the password and were let back in.

Harry sat down on one the sofas, willing his heart to stop racing quite so fast.

"That was much too close, Draco. I don't know why I let you convince me into doing these things," Harry said as seriously as he could. When he met Draco's eyes, however, as prickly as a porcupine's back, Harry gave up and began laughing. He hadn't had so much fun, ever, before. All the other times that he had run had ended with being beaten up by Dudley and his gang. 

Draco made an attempt to save face but was soon giggling as well.

"Did you see the trapdoor beneath the Cerberus's feet, Harry?" Draco asked.

"No, I was rather stuck on the three-headed dog aspect," Harry replied with a grin.

"True, sometimes I forget that you were Muggle raised. Cerberuses are not awfully common, of course, but I've seen images in some of Father's books and he told me that they're part of Muggle mythology as well. How strange it is to think that we once lived side-by-side. It must have been horribly unsanitary."

Harry was about to make a comment, but Draco had stopped talking and Harry was still curious about that trap door.

"What do you suppose was hiding under that trapdoor, Draco?"

"I don't know. You would think that I would because Father is on the Board of Governors and should have been informed that they're keeping a monstrous beast at Hogwarts. I am almost certain that he would have told me if he’d known about it. I shall write him a letter." When Harry started to open his mouth, Draco added, "Don't worry, Harry. I'll simply ask about the forbidden corridor."

Harry nodded, thinking. "Remember when we went to Hagrid's, Draco?"

"How could I not? The scent and the mess are imprinted in my mind."

"Well, we talked about the break-in at Gringotts, remember? I bet that whatever Hagrid took from Gringotts is being guarded by that dog!"

"Brilliant, Harry!"

They would have discussed the mysterious package for hours, but it was already very late and they had class the next day. They promised each other that they would talk about it again as soon as possible, and then snuck quietly up to their dorm. Harry had barely put his head on the pillow when he fell asleep.


	10. The Nimbus Two-Thousand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry receives his beloved broom from an unexpected source and the Quidditch trials take place.

Harry was smiling but sleepy when woke up the next morning. Bear had decided to sleep in, so Harry went down to breakfast without his company. Draco was also excited. When they came down for breakfast, Draco got a package in the mail, as he often did, but instead of being from his mother it was from his father. To Harry's surprise, he also received a package. It was a long, slender package at one end that gradually tapered into a wide fan-shape—in other words, a broom! Furthering along Harry’s surprise, the broom was accompanied by a letter from Draco's father. A look over at the blond showed Harry that his friend was smiling indulgently at him.

"Well, go on; open it."

It was clear that Draco was waiting for Harry to read the letter and open his package before Draco would say anything.

_Dear Mr. Potter,_

_Having heard much about you from our son, my wife and I are pleased to find that he has made such a good friend so quickly. Congratulations on being sorted into the prestigious House of Salazar Slytherin. My son has also informed me that you were unfortunately raised by Muggles that have deprived you of your rich heritage as a member of the Potter family, but that he is working diligently to improve your knowledge of Wizarding culture and traditions. I have encouraged his efforts and would be happy to respond to any questions he is unable to answer._

_I would also like you to know that my wife and I, along with many others, campaigned that you might be placed in a nurturing environment with people of your own kind after the unfortunate death of your parents. Sadly, Headmaster Albus Dumbledore—who was still riding the prestige he had obtained after his defeat of the Dark Lord Grindewald—said that he had found blood relatives for you to live with and won approval from the Ministry to place you with them._

_I have also heard from Draco that you have been placed on the Slytherin Quidditch team as Seeker and that Draco may also become a member of the team this year. When he told me that you had no broom to play with, and knowing you had no appropriate guardian to handle your monetary affairs in our world, I inquired into your situation with Professor Snape. After your financial affairs were reviewed by the goblins, he discovered that your scholastic funding included the purchase of a broomstick. If you would like to know more information about said affairs, Professor Snape or I would be happy to look them over with you and assist you in this area, much as my son has been helping you in others._

_As I am a member of the Hogwarts Board of Governors—and in light of the recent change in policy—we agreed that First Years should now be permitted racing brooms. As such, Professor Snape approved that I might acquire on your behalf a broom in time for your first practice. I have not used the provided monies; however, my family and I would be pleased for you to accept this small token of recognition and future friendship with our family. Although you were stripped of the ability to have a broom of your own choosing, I believe that a Nimbus Two-Thousand, as a premier racing broom, will more than suit your needs. I wish you an excellent first year at Hogwarts._

_I fully expect that I will continue to hear great things about you._

_Sincerely,_

_Lucius Malfoy_

_Lord of Malfoy Manor_

Harry looked around in shock, searching for Professor Snape. The professor caught his eye and nodded. Harry's face was hurting he was grinning so much. He turned then to look at Draco who looked extremely pleased with himself.

"Well, go on then, Harry; open it," Draco said, almost bursting with excitement. 

Harry turned to look now at the package. He ran his hands over the crisp edges and smooth lines; he felt the weight of it in his hands. He had never gotten a present like this before. Going to Diagon Alley for his birthday had been the first time he'd ever gotten any sort of present at all, even if it was just discovering that magic was real. But now, Mr. Malfoy had thought of him when Draco had told him that Harry had been made Seeker. Harry wondered if Draco had asked his father to do so, but it was hard to care even though he knew that he should. 

Harry slipped his fingers under the pieces of tape that were holding the brown paper down, sticky tape catching on his stubby nails.

"Hurry up, Harry. There's no need to worry about tearing that paper. Quality Quidditch Supplies just uses it protect the box itself," said Draco.

Harry was about to respond but Millicent beat him to it. "Let him enjoy unwrapping his package. Some of us don't get packages in the mail every day," she said with a look.

Draco turned to shoot her one in return and probably more, but Harry—who was glad that Millicent said what he thought he might have been too afraid to say—cut in. "We can go flying tonight. Get you ready for tryouts."

Draco, successfully distracted but still not having started opening his package, began instead to enthusiastically describe his plans for the try-outs as he somehow also managed to polish off his breakfast. Harry, with a full belly, surrounded by his friends and a Nimbus Two Thousand in his hands, smiled.

By the time that Harry had removed the brown paper without tearing it, Draco was winding down. Harry carefully eased off the paper, still not believing what he was holding in his hands. But the box shone and across the top in red was written "Nimbus Two Thousand." Everyone at the table oohed when Draco ripped off his paper to reveal the long, thin case. For all that, Draco had been pestering Harry about opening his package quickly, now they were both carefully lifting the lid of their case, trying not to ruin it.

At last the case was opened and the most wonderful broom that Harry had ever seen, though he knew very little about different broomsticks, was revealed. It was sleek and shiny with a mahogany handle and had a long tail of neat, straight twigs and _Nimbus Two Thousand_ written in gold near the top.

Everyone wanted to touch it or hold it, even Pansy who hated Quidditch. She said that it was the value of the broom and the craftsmanship that made it impressive enough for her to look at it. Her words made something turn in Harry's stomach. He wondered how much money Mr. Malfoy had really spent and worried about what his offer might have meant. For all that Harry wished he could take all of Mr. Malfoy's words as he had when he had first read the letter, he knew that doing so was unwise. The other Slytherins might remind him of adults sometimes but they could still be won over by Bear or going flying together. Mr. Malfoy was the real deal, the kind of people Uncle Vernon salivated over getting given their attention.

Harry kept thinking about his dilemma as he and Draco walked quickly back down to the dungeons to leave their new brooms in their dormitory. Draco kept up a constant stream of chatter and was excited enough that he didn't seem to notice that Harry was pre-occupied. 

They arrived in their room and Harry found that he had difficulty letting go of his broom for fear that if he let go it might disappear. Even Draco seemed reluctant to leave it after having gotten it so soon, pausing in the doorway to take one last look after another. In the end, it was Blaise, who often missed breakfast, that had to drag them away, muttering all the while about them being Quidditch mad already.

 

#

 

Harry kept thinking and worrying about Mr. Malfoy's letter throughout the rest of the day. Thankfully, he had flying with Draco that evening to distract him.

 After dinner, as promised, he and Draco took to the skies. The broom was unlike anything he had ever flown before. It was so sensitive to his touch that it seemed Harry only had to think of where he wished to be and his broom would take him there. In addition, he could turn the tightest corners and change from accelerating to decelerating at an incredible rate. Harry climbed into the sky until he felt his ears pop in just under a minute. It was beyond Harry's wildest dreams and it seemed Draco's too.

After a half hour of practicing, Harry caught Draco's eye. Suddenly, they were racing each other, trying to catch the other one in increasingly elaborate games of tag. After their fifth round, it developed into Draco teaching Harry dives, diversions and dips. Harry couldn't remember the last time he had laughed so hard or smiled so hard in his life. Even Draco, who was normally very sensitive to being beaten, only laughed when Harry caught him at tag and cheered when Harry dived lower than he had been comfortable doing. 

When at last they decided that they were done for the night, their bodies were drenched in sweat and their faces as red as the setting sun. They could barely feel their hands and their faces seemed stuck in a smile. When they entered the common room, everyone wanted to know what the brooms had felt like. Harry left Draco to his adoring audience once it became clear that he would be talking for a while. His shower felt wonderful and his muscles hurt in all the best ways.

Unwilling to go back to the chaos of the common room and his mind once more distracted by Mr. Malfoy's letter, Harry sat down on his bed and polished his broom instead. After circling around his thoughts several times over, he was relieved to hear a knock on the door. To his surprise, it was Millicent. He stood at his doorway for a moment in shock.

"Well, aren't you going to let me in?" she said.

Harry, startled, immediately opened his door widely and motioned for her to come in. She pulled up on of the chairs while he sat on the bed.

"I heard that your broom came from Lucius Malfoy, Harry," she began.

"Professor Snape was already planning to go with me to buy it, but since Mr. Malfoy was already going to get one for Draco, he offered to save Professor Snape the trip."

Millicent looked him in the eyes and held his gaze. "Lucius Malfoy is a very dangerous, very cunning man, Harry. You're the Boy-Who-Lived. Lucius Malfoy served the Dark Lord willingly, despite what he said at his trial. I've known him my entire life, although my family's line isn't nearly as prominent as his is. He's killed and tortured in the past and the only thing that he cares about is blood, family and knowledge. You need to step carefully around him, Harry, and be careful about accepting his gifts. If he can have you indebted to him and under his thumb, he will."

Harry felt his stomach twist at her words. He had been worrying about this all day but he'd tried to push it to the side because he'd wanted to believe that someone might be willing to do something like that for no reason other than to make his son and his new friend happy.

"Don't get me wrong, he's a good ally to have on your side if you can get him. He has lots of influence at the Ministry, a very impressive library and the cunning and ambition to do whatever he feels is in he and his family's best interest. But he won't become your ally unless you can impress him. He'll set you traps, he'll test you until he's certain that you're the right horse to back," Millicent continued.

Harry was beginning to feel overwhelmed. How on earth was he supposed to convince Draco's father that he was a worthy ally? He was only eleven and his only experience with politics were with the gossipings of Privet Drive.

Millicent, who looked like she was about to continue, stopped when she saw his face. "You're only in first year so he shouldn't have as high of an expectation. What did he say in the letter?"

"He said that he wanted to let me know that he was sorry that I had been raised by Muggles and that he had done all that he could to prevent it and that the blame rested with the Headmaster. He also told me that he'd encouraged Professor Snape to look over my financial records. But what I'm most worried about, especially after what you just told me, is that he offered to help me understand the report that the Goblins produced."

Millicent's face turned contemplative. "Well, Lucius Malfoy is certainly a very good investor and if he were giving you good advice, which he might believe to be in your best interest, you could certainly gain money. But showing him those records would also give him knowledge of what sort of artifacts and magical items your family possesses. At the same time, of course, it's also one of the best ways to gain his respect if you prove how competent, serious and cunning you are."

She looked at him again with consideration. "I would talk to Professor Snape, Harry. He's the one who will be able to look over those records with you and teach you something about the state of your estate and how to manage it. Professor Snape is an old friend of Lucius Malfoy’s but he takes his job as Head of House seriously. Just remember to be on your guard with him. You have many people watching you, Harry, waiting for you to mess up or for their chance to take what you have. Don't let them."

She gave him a smirk then and added, "The war that Voldemort started is far from over. You have to decide if you'll stand in his place or Dumbledore's." 

With that last mysterious, and in Harry's opinion, far too demanding statement, Millicent left, leaving more problems in her wake than had been there to begin with. This Chosen One business was a lot more work than Harry had imagined when he'd been told that he was a hero. 

Harry sighed and finished polishing his broom. At least that cheered him up. Harry knew that he'd have to go meet with Professor Snape after all.

Harry walked down the stairs, out of his dormitory, carrying his homework. He dropped it off at their usual table, before quickly writing a letter to Professor Snape and hurrying to the Owlery to give it to Hedwig. By the time that he'd come back down, the study group was bemoaning History of Magic. Harry couldn't help but feel when Draco gestured to him as soon as he saw him that despite everything, Slytherin wasn't bad at all.

 

#

 

When Harry sat down for breakfast the next day, he discovered that Professor Snape wouldn't be able to see him until Monday during tea. Harry had been purposely vague in his letter about why he wanted the meeting and he knew that Professor Snape was still having his start of term meetings with his students. He'd just have to come up with something on his own.

_Dear Mr. Malfoy,_

_Thank you for going to the trouble of buying me a broomstick. I'm glad that Draco is as pleased to be my friend as I am to be his. I would also like to thank you for your condolences about my parents. While it is true that I would have liked to have been raised in the Wizarding world, Draco has been teaching me Wizarding courtesy very well. As for your offer to help me understand my finances, I will be looking them over with Professor Snape at the beginning of next week so that I might have at least a basic understanding before I consult someone else about my affairs. Thank you for your offer. I will be certain to think of you when I go looking for such advice._

_Sincerely,_

_Harry Potter_

_Potter Heir_

As Harry had begun writing his letter at the breakfast table, Draco soon came over to investigate.

"What are you writing, Harry?"

Harry turned to look at Draco, smiling despite his worry. For all that Lucius Malfoy might be a potential enemy, Harry was glad that he had Draco as a friend. He would always be his first friend so Harry, despite knowing that it was a tremendous leap of faith, showed him both letters.

"Your father sent this to me along with my broom. I'm trying to draft a letter that sounds grateful but also intelligent. I don't want him thinking that I'm not good enough to be your friend, Draco."

Draco smiled at that but he was looking worried as he read through his father's letter.

"I wish that you'd shown this to me yesterday, Harry."

Harry looked down. "I wanted to spend yesterday enjoying our brooms instead of worrying about this. I wasn't sure if I was worried for nothing. There's still so much about Wizarding culture, especially purebloods like your family, that I don't understand, Draco. I was worried if I said anything, it might upset you."

Draco looked up sharply at him. "Harry, I love my father and I respect him. But he always has to know the players in the game, has to test them. You don't have any strong authority figures in your life except Professor Snape, maybe, so he's testing you even though you're only eleven."

Harry was shocked at Draco's words. Draco always spoke with such reverence about his father that it made Harry wonder what had brought about this change of heart. 

Draco continued. "Father knows that Dumbledore is hardly a suitable guardian and your Muggle relatives certainly are not. He just wants to know whether you and Professor Snape can handle it on your own or if you need his help."

Harry felt his heart sink a little. He wondered if Draco believed his father's story about the Imperius Curse. He wondered what he'd been taught by his parents other than his inappropriate use of the word Mudblood. At the same time, Harry knew that if his parents had been alive, he would have believed almost everything that they said. Draco believed that his father was a good man, and while Millicent hadn't said that he wasn't, Harry was certain that Hermione or Ron would disagree with Draco's opinion. But how much did they really know about him? 

Draco clearly adored his father and Millicent had said that family was one of the things that Lucius Malfoy valued most. While Harry instinctively disagreed with some of what Draco repeated as though straight from his father's lips but did he really know enough about this world to do that? 

Harry shook his head. Draco was still looking at him and was beginning to look slightly worried. Harry knew that it was no use running around in circles; he didn't have the knowledge or the experience to do anything like that now. But persuading Lucius Malfoy that he was intelligent and cunning enough that he should be treated with respect was a good plan. He turned to look at Draco.

"I just want your father to respect me. I want to be a player in the game, not just his pawn. I want to make Slytherin proud. Will you help me?"

Draco broke out into a radiant smile. "Well we'll have to keep working on your lessons then. Much as I would like it if you became my parents' ward, standing by yourself is a more lofty goal. You'll need to make alliances of course.

"It begins with the impression you make on the students and teachers here, although the impression you make on the Slytherin students is of course most important. Almost all of the cadets of the Dark families are within our House but there are a few that are not. The impression you make on the Light families is important, as well, but so long as you act gracious, intelligent and don't offend any of them, you should be fine this year."

Draco smiled again. "I've been trained for this my entire life, Harry. Malfoys are king makers, I'll just have to help you become one too. 

"Now, on the subject of that letter, you're right to worry about his offer regarding your financials. Father is excellent with money, but you'll weaken his impression of you if you accept his offer. You'll have to find a better way of refusing him than this. It's much too obvious…"

Draco continued the discussion throughout the day and together they drafted and re-drafted letter after letter. Harry found that he sometimes had to put his foot down at some of Draco's suggestions, but, overall, Draco was more helpful than Harry had thought he would be. Harry was still a little unsure about sending the letter without showing it to Professor Snape but Draco didn't seem to trust Professor Snape entirely about matters like this.

"Professor Snape's been a friend of the family for a very long time, Harry. He's my godfather. We can trust him within the responsibilities of Head of House but anything more could put him in an unfortunate position with Father and could weaken your image. He'll help you with your financials, of course, but if he looks over the letter as well, Father will just think that he wrote it and then you'll appear to be under his thumb," Draco had said.

The final copy of the letter, written in Harry's best hand (after many attempts as he still wasn't very comfortable with a quill and ink) read:

_Dear Lord Malfoy,_

_I would like to thank you for your gift of the Nimbus 2000. It is beautiful, and I look forward to being able to use it at the first practice of the Slytherin Quidditch team. I am very honoured to hear that Draco is as pleased to be my friend as I am his._

_I appreciate your condolences about my deceased parents and my unfortunate relatives. As I would have liked to have grown up in the Wizarding world, I find it very helpful that Draco is so willing to take time out of his studies to help me understand the things that I have missed._

_As to your offer of assisting me in understanding the state of my affairs, I must respectfully decline at this time. Professor Snape has kindly agreed to do so—since he is on hand—and we will be doing so Monday afternoon. If we need any additional assistance, I hope that we can count on your vast knowledge in these matters. I do thank you for your offer and am honoured that you would give it so willingly._

_I hope that I can do the great House of Slytherin proud and look forward to meeting you in the future._

_Sincerely,_

_Harry Potter_

_Heir of the Potter Family_

Harry gave it to Hedwig that night.

 

#

 

Saturday was a beautiful day. Harry had yet to hear back from Mr. Malfoy but his excitement over the tryouts banished his anxiety. He didn't have to try out, but it would be his first time flying with the team and apparently he'd be helping choose their back-up Seeker. It wasn't like they'd be able to play often as no substitutions were allowed in Quidditch, but if he was injured and unable to make a game, they would play in his place. They had an entire reserve team in fact. The Slytherins were too cautious for anything else, but the reserve team also added incentive for those who were playing. Too many bad games and you could be replaced. 

Of course the real highlight would be Draco trying out for Chaser. 

Thankfully, there didn't seem to be many students in the stands. Likely they had better things to do. Because of the new regulations, several first years had shown up as well: Theo, Vince and Greg. Although Theo was sporting a cocky grin, he seemed nervous to Harry, glancing repeatedly over at the two Beaters, Derek and Bole, who were thudding their bats with ugly smiles on their faces. 

Slytherin needed most of a reserve team as well as a new Chaser, so Harry knew that Draco was in for a lot of competition.

"The first thing all of you need to remember is that Slytherin wins. We've won the House Cup for the past five years in a row and we will not be losing it this year. The only spot that we've got available on the regular team is a Chaser; the rest of you will be competing for positions on the reserve squad. If you don't show up for practice you're off the team and someone from the reserve squad will be bumped up. We won't be going easy on you today and we won't be going easy on you during practice. We win because we work hard and we don't accept any whining or complaining." Marcus Flint paused and then shouted, "That understood?"

There was silence and Marcus Flint yelled even louder, "I said, is that understood, you brats?"

"Yes, sir," the group said at once. Theo was trying hard not to look like he was ready to wet himself. Vince and Greg were as blank as they always were although they were looking longingly at the Beater bats. Harry wondered how Theo had made it into Slytherin if he couldn't keep his composure around Marcus Flint. Maybe he had been raised by parents who were less strict than Draco's. 

Harry had a hard time imaging Draco not being respectful especially towards someone like Marcus Flint, who seemed he would be more likely to pick people who treated him with what he felt were the proper levels of respect. At the same time, Harry had heard Draco say some very rude things about people like Professor Quirrell. Perhaps Mr. Malfoy had taught Draco that respect in some cases could be lost. Not that Draco had ever said any of those things in Quirrell's hearing, Harry knew.

Marcus ordered them to do a series of laps around the pitch. Harry knew that he was being tested too. The rest of the students soon feel behind. Draco was doing alright, certainly not as bad as some of their other year mates but Harry had years of running from Dudley behind him and finally the energy from enough food to power him. They didn't stand a chance.

Ground drills soon became flying drills. Draco's most serious competition was from a second year named Warrington. He was a large bloke but was strangely graceful in the air, completely different from Draco's nimble slenderness. Unfortunately for Draco, he was also performing well in the drills which were largely used for Seekers.

The final exercise of the day was a practice match between two teams. Marcus Flint would regularly rotate the players so that he could see them in different positions. Theo had already dropped out before the end, barely hanging on to his broom. The other students were told at the end of the practice that they would know by mid-next week and that if they made the team or the reserve team they were expected to show up at practice on Wednesday and every one after that. Then they limped back to the change rooms. Harry was asked his opinion, although he doubted it carried much weight, and then joined the others in the change rooms. 

Harry was glad that practice would be on Wednesday. He'd been a bit worried that practice would be on Tuesday when he had Astronomy at midnight. Harry already had enough trouble staying up during that class, being exhausted and sore from practice would only make it worse.

Although Harry already had a spot, Marcus had wanted to evaluate him for himself and so, like the rest of the team, he had participated in the drills and in the practice match. Despite having flown with Draco every evening since their first flying class, Harry was still frighteningly sore after the try-outs. Still it was nothing he couldn't push through. 

As for Draco, he was red in the face and some strands of his hair, despite being severely oiled that morning, had fallen forward into his face. Once they had entered the changing rooms, Draco had quickly claimed a shower stall and had yet to exit. Harry was about to give up waiting for him when, at last, Draco came out. Draco refused for Harry to talk about the tryouts or Quidditch, so they spent the walk back to the dungeons talking first about their assigned homework for the weekend and eventually Draco moved to discussing the school's gossip. 

Harry nodded at appropriate intervals. He tried to be more interested since such knowledge could apparently swing tides and influence actions but after practice he couldn't work up the energy. Blaise, Pansy and Draco could do their comparison and analysis of the rumour mill for hours. Their study session was just that. Harry normally went over that week's Charms homework with Millicent who had even less interest than himself in gossip.

Millicent had seemed worried when she'd seen Harry and Draco as friends once more, so Harry had had to, despite Draco's arguments, explain what he'd said in the letter. She hadn't been best pleased, especially because she had not been consulted about the final contents of the letter and Draco—an unreliable source and editor in her mind in this circumstance—had corrected the letter in her stead. 

By the end of the night both the gossip session and the study session had been successful and Harry and Millicent could now cast _Lumos,_ if a flickering one. In the end it was bright enough for Harry to go to bed early which he did happily.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm updating this again (as of Oct 2015) and I'm on tumblr as synteis so if you want to bug me about this fic, you can there.


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